


Me Olvidaste

by Da_Funked



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brainwashed!Jack, Brainwashing, Canon Divergence, Corrupt!UN, M/M, Racist themes for the Strike Commander promotion, Rating subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Da_Funked/pseuds/Da_Funked
Summary: "Nine months of being together, you remember none of that? Come on, cariño, look me in the eye and try to tell me you don't remember our life. Remember me.""Mr. Reyes, do not make a scene," Jack said in a cold tone, blue eyes that were usually so soft seemingly freezing with annoyance as they locked with Gabe's. "You must be tired from your mission; We have never had a relationship, we will never have a relationship. You are dismissed."





	1. Buenos Días

**Author's Note:**

> ((Hello friends! Welcome to a painful Reaper76 fic that I've been insanely excited to write! Any spanish used will have translations at the end of the work, and with that said I really hope you like it! The first chapter is setup, thinks will pick up with the next update <3 Hope you enjoy!!

"Don't think I'll ever get used to waking up like this."

Giving a hum that quickly morphed into a chuckle when Jack pressed impossibly closer, Gabe gave a sigh of content. Even though they were both shoved into a bed barely big enough for one of them, and even with the morning sun streaming directly on their faces and reminding them that they both had responsibilities starting at 0700 sharp, the two remained relaxed for the first time in what felt like years. In reality, it had been nearly eleven months since either had been on an actual mattress and not out in trenches, sleeping bags, the cold hard ground or half collapsed buildings as they chased armies of omnics round the clock. Eleven months since they or their fellow soldiers hadn't had to watch their backs every five seconds, stay awake pacing through the night in fear of closing their eyes, worry which bullet had their name on it and try to say everything that came to mind out of the worry that they'd die before getting the proper chance.

Yesterday had been the end of the Omnic Crisis, brought down by the elite team of Overwatch.

Gabriel Reyes had been the Commanding Officer of said group, with Jack Morrison acting as the mortar that held their team together and kept everyone going even when it was easier to fall in a blaze of white flags and surrendered lives. Reinhardt Wilhelm, Ana Amari, and Torbjörn Lindholm were the other main authorities in the group, following under Gabriel's instructions and only disobeying when they truly felt it necessary.

Thankfully that wasn't often.

Together, their instruction was both a hard hand and a soft touch, keeping morale, and a fair amount of their soldiers, alive as the war raged on.

Yesterday, when it was finally announced that their Strike Team had been successful and destroyed the spaces holding the command and control centers for the omnic armies, celebration didn't begin to cover it. Jack and Gabe had kissed each other senseless with a shotgun and a pulse rifle in hand the rest of the people in their crew cheered them on with laughter and soft smiles. Ana had been scooped up by Reinhardt with an excited cheer in Arabic, while one of the younger recruits barreled through and damn near knocked Torbjörn off of feet with a loud whoop. Angela, the genius medic that kept the ones that were still standing alive during all of it, was tugged into a hug by Lena and Winston, the pilot and healer getting swung by the gorilla with a cheer.

They could _breathe._

When they finally returned back to base, Lena chattering the entire time about finally going _home_ , that word sounding like a prayer on her tongue and on everyone's ears, there had already been people waiting. A small group of officials, what Gabe considered to be the 'suits' of Overwatch, directed by the UN. "Useless bunch of _pollas_ ," had been Gabe's greeting under his breath, getting an elbow from Jack, who immediately extended a hand in welcoming to them.

Ever the shining example, he greeted the suits kindly and questioned their presence. They merely offered a job well done, gazes flicking between Jack and Gabriel before settling back on Jack. Then they told them that they had business that needed to be attended to at 0700, the both of them requested in different meeting rooms, which neither man liked at all. Still, Jack offered a smile and agreed, Gabriel giving a silent nod from his side before the men left with stiff shoulders and fake grins.

Plastic people, Ana accused.

She wasn't wrong.

That night had been one of baths, hugs, and reunions in more ways than one. Ana got to see Fareeha again, little hands gripping into dark hair as the little girl refused to leave her mothers strong arms and gentle hold. Mercy got each of them fixed up with the actual equipment they'd had at Gibraltar, Reinhardt's eye being cleaned fully and uncovered. It was still sightless, but at very least it was not a festering wound, but a healthy scar. He merely called it a worthy sacrifice, earning an 'aye' from Tobjörn, who clicked his own prosthetic hand in agreement.

The line drawn semi-deep down Gabriel's cheek was officially a battle wound, but when Jack claimed he was looking like a cat mauled him, Gabriel held up his turned off comm unit so the screen could act as a mirror, pointing out that Jack was a scratching post too.

Jack had simply kissed him quiet, no one making funny jeers the way they'd been doing for the nine months the pair of them had been together. Out on the battlefield, romance had been risky, a joke that shouldn't have an end. Mocks and snark kept them sharp and didn't allow them to get lost in the moment, keeping their minds on the job at hand and not at the hand gripping the others.

Back home, they were allowed to get lost. Just for a short while.

Now, the two were back in their old quarters. The base was emptier than it had been when they'd all been deployed, but that was the unfortunate truth of war. The men they'd fought with were now just memories, the only evidence they ever existed in the first place being plaques outside their doors announcing their prior residence there and the dog-tags that had gotten sent back to their families the days after they fell. Jack and Gabe were the only two that came back and had a roommate to greet, not that they'd been separated for longer than the length of a shower.

Now they got to relax. Inhale, exhale. Repeat.

"That a good thing or a bad thing?" Gabe dared to ask, though judging by the lax body that was against and on top of his own, the question was already answered. Dark fingers dragged up the pale expanse of Jack's back, thumb trailing over a large scar that curled around his ribs. A Bastion unit had hit him with the barrel of its gun when it had ran out of ammo, sliced clean through to the bone. Jack was out of commission for two days and Gabe developed a weird habit of blowing Bastion units sky high with two shotgun blasts to their main processors.

Funny how that works.

"Good thing." Pressing his mouth to Gabe's shoulder, the blond hummed. "We were allowed to sleep in two hours and we're still up early."

"Woes of being a soldier," Gabe immediately snarked, feeling Jack laugh against his skin before falling quiet for a moment.

When Jack tensed against him a little and the silence went from comfortable to tense, Gabe's brow furrowed. " _¿Querido?_ Something wrong?"

After another beat of silence, Jack finally questioned, "Why are they having us meet them separately?"

" _¿Que?"_

"You're meeting them down the hall while I'm meeting them upstairs. If they wanted to talk about anything during the Crisis, or any of our efforts in the war, they wouldn't separate us."

"..... You're worried they found out about our relationship aren't you."

"I'm not worried if they know, I just don't wanna be away from you when they try to shun us for it." That was as much of an assurance as anything, soothing the momentary fear that Jack was ashamed of what they'd developed.

Two months into wartime and Gabe had taken a bullet to the left lung. Due to Jacks's Biotic Shield and the fast fingers of a seventeen year old medic, Gabe had lived to see another day. Jack had kissed him square on the mouth and threatened to cut out his lungs himself if he ever scared him like that again, and the rest was history.

During the fight there had been no time for regret, and now that there was no main distraction, it was a weight off of both of their chests knowing that there never would _be_ regret.

"Considering we just saved the world from robotic annihilation, I don't think they're allowed to lecture us on who we take to bed."

"And if they do, I don't give a flying fuck," Jack reminded, smiling when Gabe laughed.

"I remember the days when you blushed when you used the word 'crap', and now here you are. You can say the word 'fuck' without looking around for your mother to chew you out."

"Oh please, I've always sworn like a sailor."

"I used to call you Boyscout for a reason, Indiana."

"Then maybe you've been a bad influence."

Before Gabe got a chance to respond, both of their alarms went off, warning them they had ten minutes to get ready to meet the UN suits that were going to try to tear them to ribbons. "Ready to face the world?" It was sighed out, the Latino man digging his fingers into Jack's skin momentarily before the blond slipped off the bed, away from the warmth of the morning.

"Not even a little." Winking, Jack offered a hand, helping haul Gabe to stand before immediately tripping him to get to the bathroom first.

Some things, not even war can change.

 

-

 

"I'm not…. Understanding."

"We said congratulations." The man was old, shriveled in a way that reminded Jack of a raisin, with grey stringy hair that was greased back in faux professionalism. He and two other men whom accompanied him, both of which were younger and just as out of place in Gibraltar as the former, all wore light blue suits. Too cheery of a color, considering their unimpressed faces. "You, Jack R. Morrison, are the new Strike Commander and leader of Overwatch, which is officially under UN jurisdiction in cooperation with the National-"

"Pardon me for interrupting, but I am still at a loss." Blond brows furrowed together, Jack's gaze flicking between the three individuals that were staring at him like he had said the stupidest thing they'd heard all week. Which, honestly, he may have; anyone with ears would understood what they just said, and here one of the best soldiers in the world was acting like they were speaking in tongues. "Gabriel Reyes is the Commanding Officer of Overwatch, he-"

"Gabriel Reyes was not a contender for the position." It was said flatly, as a fact, the old man who'd said his name had been Mr. Bentley or some crap seemingly bored of the topic already.

Gabe's dismissal was not met with compliance. "Huh. Seems weird to me that the most qualified person on the planet wasn't a 'contender'," Jack argued, fingers curling in sarcastic air quotes next to his jaw as he looked the three of them over with a distinctly unamused stare.

Something about this seemed odd.

Gabriel was the reason he was still alive to tell the tale of the Omnic Crisis, the reason why everyone on that _base_ was alive. He'd thrown himself in the line of fire for all of them at some point, led without fear into places that would have most shitting their pants, and could redirect an entire battalion with less than a minute of warning for when a plan changed. A master tactician, a brilliant brain, as well as the perfect soldier.

Jack would add 'drop dead gorgeous' but at that point it just sounds like bragging about his significant other.

"He lacks your _appeal_." The word curled out in a sickly way from the younger man on the left, dark hair and dead eyes watching Jack lazily. His badge read 'L. Alton', the little picture displayed on it had him looking like a smarmy young recruit. Much different than the lifeless pawn pouring out words in front of Jack, saying things that made his stomach crawl. "Right now, the people need someone to be a voice for the organization that just saved the _world_. Reyes is too abrasive, not relatable."

Scoffing, Jack's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Not _relatable_?"

"Yes," Alton said, as if Jack's question hadn't been rhetorical. "You have charisma for public speaking, the right look. People trust y-"

"Wait a moment, I'm sorry; what do my looks have to do with this?" Leaning forward with a set jaw and resting his arms on the edge of the table, all three of the men on the other side of it shifted back a little, which got Jack smiling on the inside.

Alright, a little on the outside too.

It looked annoyed.

A soft sigh, and then good ol' Bentley was speaking, "Reyes does his job well enough, but take a good hard _look_ at him. His face is scarred, eyes mean. He's loud, brash. Not someone we can put in front of a crowd without people getting nervous."

Visions of Gabriel's smile, crinkled eyes and slight dimples swam in Jack's vision. The memory of when he cooed quietly over Fareeha when she'd scraped her knee on the tarmac played in high definition; large hand scooping up her small leg like it was made of glass and looking over the injury while Angela went to get a few items from the lab. He was fretting, quite obviously, but when Ana entered the room she did the same thing, Fareeha preening under the attention.

His soft voice, loud laugh, a commanding tone that saved lives rang through his ears before his mouth set in a thin line.

He knew what they were saying.

"My face is scarred too." It came out emotionless, his patience worn thin instantly.

The three men looked between each other, and the one on the far left, blond hair and green eyes, shook his head. "They're superficial."

His name badge said 'A. Belwick'. He looked as soulless in his picture as he did in real life.

"You want a white guy." It wasn't a question, or an accusation even. It was a true statement, Jack moving to stand up. "This meeting is over."

The two younger men stood up too, which immediately put Jack's stance on the defensive until he remembered where he was. The older man sat back a little, looking almost a touch put out as he shook his head. "Mr. Morrison, you don't need to make this difficult on yourself."

"Promote the right man then," Jack said as a parting statement, starting to walk to the door before a loud popping noise rang through the room. Immediately the blond stumbled, a hand going down to the stinging feeling on side of his right thigh and finding what looked to be a small dart. Shot directly into his femoral artery.

The pink fluffed end of it was vivid against his dark suit, brow pulling together the longer he looked at it and the thought of what just happened rationalized in his brain.

He hadn't even seen them pull out a dart gun, but then again, he hadn't been _looking_ for that. Why would he have needed to be on the defense with a group of men from the UN?

As his world went wobbly and dark, Jack heard the assurance of, "We _are_ promoting the right man. Mr. Alton, Mr. Belwick, please escort Morrison to-"

When he fell backwards, two sets of arms caught him while mumbling, "Yes sir."

 

-

 

"Blackwatch."

A consolation prize.

"We can think of no one who would be better suited." The woman's voice was borderline kind, making Gabe's skin crawl. A tall Asian woman, who appeared graceful but cold towards the man across from her. When he'd requested a name she said to call her Xi, so he asked her full name and immediately referred to her as Ms. Lao.

There was no damn way he was getting chummy with the person who was kicking Overwatch out from under him.

"Is that so?" He questioned, sounding unconvinced.

"A covert unit led by the man who put an end to the Omnic Crisis. We've had our eyes on you for quite a while, sir, but after the leadership skills on assessing your Strike Teams positions and having them attack yesterday, it proved how well you handle a team."

"Would have thought keeping four fifths my battalion alive would have proved that well enough," Gabriel deadpanned. The woman didn't flinch. The two were sitting across from one another, the room lit by yellow lightbulbs that made Gabe feel caged in.

Ms. Lao didn't seem to care.

"We would be honored for you to be Commander of Blackwatch," She repeated the sentence, smile intact.

"…… And my role as Commander of Overwatch?"

"You would be relieved of it, so it would not be a distraction for you."

"Wow, what a kind _favor_." Grumbling it out, Gabe waved his hand, "Don't try to make this sound like you're doing me a solid, _dama_."

"Sir-"

"Whatever bullshit you're about to spew, save it for the next person you demote." Biting the words out, he stood up, having to fight the obvious nervous tick of running his hands through his hair. He had to go sans hat today, making dark curls shift when he turned his head to go for the door.

God he wished Jack was here for this.

Right now, it felt like this woman had single handedly blown the kneecaps out of his entire life. Overwatch was something that he had helped build from the ground up, had been the leader of during the entirety of a massive war, and the _day after it ended_ they were already vying to get him stuck on some pet project.

Gabriel had been disrespected a lot in his lifetime, but this was the most notable.

Sucking in a deep breath to hopefully even out his breathing, Gabe didn't stop walking. "Whoever you give my position to had better be-"

"Mr. Reyes," She cut through his sharp statement like a warm knife through butter, not bothering to turn around. "The position, by this time, is held by Strike Commander Morrison."

That. Threw him for a loop, actually. Stilling in front of the exit, he turned to look over his shoulder, finally seeing her shift to look at him. "Jack?"

"Yes. Mr. Morrison was offered the position about ten minutes ago."  
  
Scoffing at that, Gabriel shook his head, "No, he wouldn't take it. He'd talk to me about that, we'd-"

"And just why would he need to talk to you about it?" She questioned gently, an eyebrow raising and causing Gabe's hackles to rise at her knowing stare. A moment passed, the man considering simply saying that it was because that was his old position, before he shoved it down. Fuck them if they made a goddamn fit over him and Jack being a thing; They gave away his position to his partner. At this point, they probably knew and did this as a way to make them fight and break up, cleaning up the personal matters and gaining a hell of a Strike Commander.

Gabriel's gut twisted at the knowledge that Jack would be excellent for the job.

"Because unlike the UN, we're not a bunch of _hijos de putas_ who stab each others backs in our off time." Before she could retort, Gabe tugged the hem of his grey suit jacket lightly to straighten it, anger still keeping his tongue sharp a whip. He needed to leave, now, before he said more things he'd regret. "Have a good day, Ms. Lao."

She nodded, but he didn't see, too busy with pulling the door open with too much force. The poor frame creaked from the effort of staying together under the stress Gabe put on it, before the ex-commander slammed the panel closed behind him as he sighed through his nose, refusing to stop his gait towards his and Jack's room.

So much for a day off after saving the fucking planet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Interested? Hate it? Love it? Leave a comment or questions below friend <3 Thanks for reading!  
> ((Translations:  
> Pollas - Dicks  
> Querido - Dear  
> Que? - What?  
> Dama - Lady  
> Hijos de putas - Sons of bitches


	2. Por Favor, Hazlo Parar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Hello friends! Welcome to chapter 2, I hope you enjoy it! Seeing as there's a lot of Spanish and some Arabic in this chapter, you can hover over/highlight the full sentences to get a translation. Thank you to UzbekistanRules helping me figure it out!

The room was empty when Gabe got back to it.

While he knew, logically, that Jack was probably questioning why they weren't including Gabe into the conversation while they literally _gave his position away,_  a small distrusting voice low in his gut wondered if Jack wasn't there because he was considering accepting it.

Dismissing it wasn't an option, unfortunately. Being Strike Commander of Overwatch after it was the thing to end a crisis that was slowly but surely ruining the world would be an honor. More than an honor, it would make him a hero; the leader of the group that saved the world, those blue eyes sparkling from the flashing lights of a thousand cameras all trained on those pretty white teeth.

The perfect spokesperson, someone who's sweet demeanor would sooth the aches the harsh politicians had left on the people's ears during this trying time.

Jack would never accept it without talking to Gabe. He wouldn't.

The thought made his stomach clench, feeling his chest give a hollow throb at the idea of Jack taking time to consider it. For the time being, he wanted to get the fuck out of this suit and take a moment to focus on evening out his breathing.

The grey material was discarded in lieu of Gabe slipping on a pair of sweatpants and grabbing one of Jack's stupid string tanks. When they'd first started in the SEP, the only clothing they could bring from home was sleep attire. Gabe went with comfortable tee shirts, some having old comic covers on them or maybe well worn graphic tees from his teenage years that provided heat in the chilled metal rooms. Jack, on the other hand, managed to get his hands on an inordinate amount of string tanks, all of them having stupid sayings and going from baggy to skin tight on Jack's from the longer they gave the injections and grueling training.

Gabe's personal favorite had said 'My Rifle Isn't The Only Thing That Pulses', courtesy of Ana when she noticed he seemed to love training in them.

It was now a joke that Gabe would get him a new one every time his birthday came around, the most recent being the one Gabe was wearing currently that said 'Suns Out, Guns Out' in blue font on sunshine yellow material. Jack had only had it for a few months before they'd gotten pulled into the action of the Crisis, the cloth smelling a little stale from having been hung without being touched for so long.

It smelled like Jack's old aftershave, though, and that was enough to help.

Gabe hadn't been able to get him anything for his last birthday.

Humming as he thought about what the shirt he would get him this year would say, Gabe scribbled out a note for Jack for when he got back to the room, ducking out after it was set on the end table of their bed to head for the training room.

Unluckily for him, the room he favored was already occupied, the woman in it catching his attention before he could duck away.

"Gabriel!" Ana called to him as she threw another sharp right hook, the punching bag in front of her swinging slightly. A large smile was on her face with black hair pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head. "Would you care to spar?"

Opening his mouth to reject the offer, he heard her bark out a laugh, looking over him obviously. "Stealing Jack's clothing already? We've been back a mere day and you're raiding his closet. Oh pardon me, _your_ closet." Winking her tattooed eye, she rested her hand to steady the punching bag, stilling it's movements. "Where is he? How did your meetings go?"

"Ana-"

"Ah, right." Holding up her hands in mock defense, she tisked her tongue. " _'Ana 'aetadhir , _that is classified."

Yes, perfect. Maybe then she'd stop asking.

"….. Was it about the fact that you and Jack are together?"

Nevermind.

"I'm not talking about this," He deadpanned as he walked into the room, starting to step towards her. Immediately, her foot slid back as her stance became defensive, a glint in her eye that showed that she was gonna _make_ Gabe talk about this whether he wanted to or not. Most likely from sheer determination, her specialty.

When Gabe matched her stance, Ana moved quick as a dart, hand shooting towards Gabe's side only to get caught by a large hand. This gave way to her leg moving to hook behind his ankle, a sharp pull not even getting him to stumble as he fell two steps forward, pushing her off balance. Compared to his normally offensive fighting style, this defensive role caught her off guard, a dark brow raising. "You seem less than thrilled about my interest in your love life. With how you two flaunt it, I had assumed you would appreciate the support."

Gabe twisted the fist he was currently holding, Ana gritting her teeth before shoving off the floor and hopping to roll with it, landing less than solidly on her thigh but with an unbroken arm. "My love life is just fine. _Dios mío_ you're almost as nosy as Torbjörn."

"What can I say? At least I learn from my teammates, unlike some." Her free hand went out to grip Gabe's wrist, a sharp rip sending him stumbling to the floor. Ana having a more solid stance from being halfway crouched was never a good thing, the woman knowing how to manipulate someone's balance far too well for her own good. A shift to the right as Gabe crashed to his knees with a sharp bark of discomfort, and the woman looked proud.

Until she was promptly tackled, a surprised laugh leaving her before the two started to wrestle in earnest.

"Then why are you so-  _spacy_?" She questioned, a hit to her stomach winding her and leaving the last word distorted. Hooking his legs behind Ana's, Gabe rolled the two of them so he was pinning her to the mat by sitting on her knees, arms scrambling to get hers stuck to the ground next to her. About five seconds later, and she was stuck, looking up at him with actual confusion.

"Am I not allowed to think on my own?"

"I didn't know you could," She shrugged, the action halted from the weight of her comrade pinning her. Promptly before her knee popped out from underneath Gabriel and her foot met his thigh, body twisting so most of it slipped in the space underneath the arm pinning her before she shoved him sideways. He fell with a solid hit to the mat, the air getting knocked out of his lungs before a swift hit to his stomach had him fighting to catch the missed breath.

A perfect time for Ana to pin him properly, twisting his arms uncomfortably as she sat casually on his stomach.

" _Christ_ Amari, what have you been eating, lead?" Wheezing the words out, Gabe felt his arm get ticked further into the wrong angle, nose scrunching.

"Benefits of training properly; I am more muscle than not. Meaning heavier and less comfortable for when I win spars against stupid men." Tipping her head, she narrowed her eyes. "What is ailing you, my friend?"

Meeting her gaze, Gabe had to break it after a moment. "I-"

"You?"

"If you're gonna interrupt, you can find out my life ailments from someone else."

"With how poorly you handle stress, that wouldn't be that much of a task."

"The stress of working with you on a daily basis is more than enough to kill me _hermana;_ if I didn't bitch about it to someone I'd have gone grey already."

"You're stalling."

"You're heavy. Get off." One quiet tap of his fingers to the mat, and Ana untangled her winning pin and slipped away, going cross legged on the mat while Gabe sat up. Once he was across from her, looking at her watching him so expectantly with a respect he no longer felt like he'd earned, the ex-commander could barely keep eye contact. "I lost my position."

Seeming to take a moment to understand the statement, Ana blinked once. "Pardon me but I'm afraid I do not understand what you just said."

"I know."

"You're-"

"No longer the Commander of Overwatch, no." Watching her eyes widen minutely, she opened her mouth only to get him raising a hand, silencing her. "Whatever you're gonna say, I can promise I've thought it. It gets worse though."

"Define worse," She requested.

"They gave it to Jack."

Ana opened her mouth once, then closed it. It opened a second time, staying that way for three seconds, before she had to blink and look away again.

Pretty much summed up Gabe's feelings on the matter.

"He's perfect for the job," He admitted into the quiet of the room, the stillness making the words seem oddly loud.

Right before Ana's foot kicked out and hit him square in the chest, sending him crashing backward.

" _You_ are perfect for the job, Gabriel!" Pushing herself to stand, Ana put her hands on her hips, an action she did when Fareeha was getting scolded before she started to pace a small line. "I know that, you know that, and _Jack_ knows that. Where is he?"

"Still in the meeting. I was gonna pass time by training, but I can't even spar right, my head feels so fucked." Rolling onto his side before pushing himself to stand, Gabriel rolled his shoulders then scrubbed a hand over his face. "I can't properly absorb it. What the _fuck_ did I do to lose my position?"

"Nothing." When she said it, Gabe could feel how much she meant it, how it wasn't a friend trying to assure another falsely. "You shouldn't have lost that position. How did they manage to tell you without a broken table and injured guards being left behind?"

The mental picture was vivid and tempting. "They're giving me a sub-section of Overwatch to command. Blackwatch."

"Sounds ominous."

"It sounds like it's gonna be their black ops division."

"It also sounds like a way to sate you from being taken out of a position _you should still be holding_ ," She argued, feet dragging as she paced.

"That's because they did. They made a whole new sector just to make this easier on me." Putting a hand over his heart, his expression remained dead. "I feel so special."

At least it worked a snort out of Amari, but she didn't seem anything less than annoyed. "You need to talk to Jack."

"Yeah, and water is wet." He was flipped off in return, but couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Then don't say obvious shit. I know Jack isn't going to accept it, but I can't blame him if he does take time to consider it."

"And if he did?"

"If he what?"

"If Jack accepted the position," Ana propositioned, fingers tapping against her hips. "What would you do, brother?"

The expression she wore nearly had him squirming under her scrutiny, but he held his ground. "If Jack wants it, we can talk about it. The ball is in the UN's court, and I don't think me throwing a fit is going to lead to me getting my position back. If I had to give the job to anyone else, it would be him."

"True love."

"Practically ripped out of a fairytale. 'Taking over the job that I've worked ten years to get' is the greatest trope right next to 'hair long enough to climb' and 'glass slippers'."

"How long ago did your meeting end?" Ana asked.

"Twenty minutes ago."

"Maybe his is done by now," She suggested.

"I doubt it," He argued, only to realize that he was avoiding asking. It felt weak once he recognized it, causing his expression to pinch in annoyance at himself.

Ana was a step ahead. "Athena." Speaking loudly and clearly, she reached up and undid her bun, starting to pull her hair back into a ponytail. "Status on the UN representatives visit?"

"The UN representatives departed from bay two six minutes ago."

That got both of their heads snapping to meet each other's eyes, Ana frozen halfway into making a ponytail and Gabe feeling nervous while looking calm. He spoke next. "Whereabouts of Jack Morrison?"

"Jack Morrison is no longer in the Gibraltar base."

The world froze.

"Time of departure?"

"Six minutes ago."

" _¿Qué diablos quieres decir con que se fue con ellos?"_ He asked to the AI, displeased when he didn't receive an answer. Ana dropped her hair, feet padding quietly as she headed over to her communicator, sitting next to a bottle of water. Flicking through the screens, she tapped on Jack's name, only for it to not even ring but instead immediately decline the call.

"He's not answering."

" _This is not happening_ ," Gabe decided out loud, hands splayed out in front of him like it would steady him as his heart beat in his ears. " _Él no me haría esto, no me dejaría así._ "

"Gabriel-" Ana started, only to get Gabe snapping at her.

" _¡Él no me haría esto! " _A second passed before he remembered that she wasn't proficient in Spanish like Jack was, and a lack of English wasn't going to help their conversation. A fellow soldier had once told him that if you got someone to revert to their mother tongue, you'd fucked up, and it was moments like this that he couldn't help but agree. "He would never do this to me, he would find me first."

"Perhaps they gave him no choice," She tried, aiming for a proper reason just like Gabe was and coming up with one that even felt half-assed to suggest. "A forced accompaniment, if you will."

"Yeah," He agreed, feeling weak for accepting such a flimsy answer in the name of hope instead of one that made more sense. He still felt almost ill, and his heart was still beating too fast, but he tried to let the tension bleed from his shoulders. "He'll have to call back to base soon."

"And when he does, you will be at the ready to speak with him," She soothed the best she could. "It will be fine, Gabriel. He will be coming back soon."

"Right." Inhale, exhale.

The warmth he'd felt that morning felt like it had been years in the past.

"He'll be back."

 

-

 

Five days.

Day one, Gabe and Ana sparred a little more, but she took him out twice before suggesting they find something to eat. The two sat in silence while the other members of the Gibraltar base continued to celebrate being home.

Gabe didn't touch his food, and Ana didn't force him. When Reinhardt approached the two of them and caught one look of Gabriel's expression, he slipped away before coming back with coffee, setting one down in front of each of the pair before joining them.

Stories of German folklore and Reinhardt's past excursions were told late into the night to distract his friend, the sentiment not lost on Gabe, who thanked Reinhardt softly when exhaustion started to pull at his eyelids.

Even after he got into bed, he didn't sleep. The lack of Jack's warmth and quiet snoring kept him alert as a man on watch.

Day two, and he went to the training simulator with his communicator strapped to his hip. Two days without battle made him feel on edge, and the lack of Jack's brightening presence next to him made him feel off balance.

He'd become way too reliant on him, from what he could tell.

The simulation went well enough, but not perfectly. Not as good of a score as a super soldier should have gotten, and not as good of one as a commander would have.

Probably not as good as Jack would have, if Gabe were to venture a guess.

He ran it three more times before Athena shut the program down for him for the day, his passcode being on a 24-hour lock down in fear of overexertion.

He asked for a status report on Jack Morrison and received the information that he was at the Swiss Headquarters. Everything else was classified, seeing as he no longer had the position of Commander as of that moment.

Three cups of coffee and a bowl of cereal, and people parted like the Red Sea when Gabe stepped through an area. Word spread fast about his shit mood, but instead of outward anger it was rolling and deep, no one wanting to risk bringing it to the surface.

He slept twenty minutes that night, and woke when he thought he'd heard Jack open the door to their room.

He remained alone in the bunks, Jack still away from their base and away from Gabe.

By day three, Gabe was worried he'd started to go crazy. After definitely hearing Jack whistling in the shower and hearing his laugh when Gabe tripped while putting on his pants, he had to ask Athena about Jack's status four times before being honestly assured that he wasn't back yet.  Each time she calmly told him that Jack was still at the Swiss Headquarters, and reminded him of his lack of access to more information. Each time felt like a shot to the head, which at this point he'd prefer. Maybe then he could get some sleep.

Instead, he went to his office, thankful to find that he still had access to it for the time being. Maybe it was Athena taking pity on him; this was the _Strike Commander's_ office, quite technically. A thought that Gabe still couldn't stomach, knowing that meant Jack went behind his back if the position well and truly wasn't his anymore. When he got there, there was a pile of papers that had 'Classified' stamped over them, and he was almost tempted to throw them in the trash before he saw that they were the plans and information about Blackwatch. A solid pause, and he flipped open the first page, eyes starting to skim.

Two more cups of coffee, and a seven hour haul of reading through every bit of information left for him. It kept his mind busy, which right now he desperately needed. Any and all thoughts of Jack needed to be purged from his mind, otherwise he'd end up killing himself with stress and theories.

Had Jack accepted right off the bat? Had he insisted that Gabe be brought in for the conversation, only to be rejected? Had he freely gone with them with the intent of finding more information on it? Maybe he was just being polite, saying he'd go to talk to their higher ups before giving that winning smile and offering a kind but firm rejection.

Maybe he'd said no and they hadn't accepted it. Maybe he'd thought of Gabe, thought of their relationship, and still said yes.

A notebook came out, Gabriel starting to take notes on the skeleton of how he wanted Blackwatch to be set up.

_No thinking of Jack._

Day three bled into day four before there was a soft knock on his door, the man not even noticing until the door was pushed open and a soft voice interrupted his writing. "Gabriel?"

Angela nearly flinched when Gabe's gaze snapped up to look at her, the man looking like hell. Dark circles that were bad enough to look like bruises, and bloodshot eyes wide open like she was a threat instead of his doctor. Not missing a beat, she continued confidently, "I need you to follow me."

"Why?" His voice was almost a croak, many hours of disuse and sleep deprivation catching up on him.

"You need rest." When he looked like he was about to protest, she continued, "I have sleeping medication for you."

That made his argument halt. A glance at his desk, and he was surprised to find how much of it was covered in his own writings. Many papers with a skeleton fanned out in front of him, then clarifications over them, then solid frame work all stacked together like he was building it from the ground up.

Half of it was damn near illegible, his brain scattered and hands shaking. Three days of little to no sleep was by no means new to him, but it was still rough on anyone, including super soldiers.

So he nodded a little dumbly and stood, following behind her as she led the way to the medical bay. Blond hair swayed a little as she walked, catching the lights of the hallways and looking so familiar it was making Gabe feel a pang of homesickness while being on his home base.

When she sat him down, she insisted he drink water first, to which he complied. She pushed her luck by recommending a shower, but Gabe just took the sleeping pills from her without missing a beat and swallowed them dry.

Thankfully she'd given him the good stuff, the ex-commander only having to lay back against the slightly propped up bed before he started to doze.

The sleep he fell into was dreamless, which left Gabe disoriented when he finally woke up. His eyes were crusted over, and mouth felt like it was full of cotton. A slight shift brought attention to a blanket over him, the skin on his face feeling oily when he rubbed his fingers over his itching cheek.

This time, when Angela popped in to check on him and recommended a shower, he didn't even argue. After getting rinsed down and putting on a hoodie and sweatpants, he was toweling down his hair when he dared to ask how long he'd slept.

Angela told him it had been about twenty hours, and then paused.

"Jack got in last night."

Those words sent anger spiking straight down Gabriel's spine, because _god damn it_ why hadn't they woken him up? Ana, at very least, should have come to get him, let alone Angela or Reinhardt. Though, remembering how out of it he'd been and how much further away from death he felt after a night of sleep, he couldn't bring himself to be as angry as he usually would have been. Sure, he was still livid, but keeping him unconscious had been a smarter decision than not.

That didn't mean he didn't rush out of the medical bay, towel meeting the floor on the way to his room.

 

-

 

**Jack, come find me when your meeting ends. I'm guessing you need to talk to me as much as I need to talk to you. -Gabe**

A simple note, one that the blond had read over five times. Each time, his frown deepened, going from a little downward tilt in the corners to a full blown scowl.

The door behind him creaked open, only for someone to sigh in what sounded like relief. " _Mi amor_ ," A voice greeted, the words coming up as gibberish in Jack's head as he turned towards the source.

A man was standing there, dressed in baggy clothing and wearing a small smile. His presence in Jack's bunk rose questions, before he connected the name he'd read to the face in front of him. This must be 'Gabe'. It felt familiar in a weird sense, but he recognized the man after a moment. Gabriel Reyes, from the SEP.

A well respected soldier. The two shared a room.

Near the same age as Jack, perhaps older, with tan skin and dark facial hair and eyes. Broad shoulders that were completely relaxed, meaning he felt comfortable with the blond. Jack didn't display the same ease, seeing as their relationship was still only just emerging into friendship, if he remembered correctly. The only memories he had of any conversations between the two of them were usually on the field, if anything.

"Reyes," He greeted politely, giving a nod as the man walked over to him. Glancing back at the note, he ticked his head towards it. "You wanted to talk."

That seemed to take Gabriel by surprise, judging by his expression. It was a bit incredulous, but at least Gabriel supplied a chuckle, aiming to dispel tension that Jack was unaware of. "Yeah, sunshine, I was hoping to have a chat."

Jack kept his expression in check even at the use of 'sunshine', eyes blinking once as he looked at the man. "About?"

"What do you mean 'about'?" Reyes questioned, now _actually_ sounding incredulous as his arms crossed.

"What do you want to discuss?" Jack clarified, only to watch Gabriel roll his eyes.

"Cute _cariño,_ but can we actually talk? Four days of you being gone was bad enough, especially with the radio silence."

"Why would I have called? It was just a few training exercises," Jack said, sounding a little confused as he looked Reyes over. Freshly showered, well rested. Four days of silence didn't seem to have worried him, and it shouldn't have; Jack was a capable soldier and was at one of their own bases. Why would this man have cared if Jack had checked in or not?

The training he'd done had seemed to have blended into a blur, a few hand to hand combat sessions and a while of getting blood drawn and checking his health. A few injections as well, but nothing nearly as painful as when he was in the SEP.

It didn't feel like enough information to fill up four days of time, but he knew that he'd been entirely safe in Switzerland, and his team would know this as well.

"A few training exercises?" The words were repeated with an annoyance Jack was unfamiliar with. "Jack, come on, you got offered the Strike Commander position and didn't even talk to m-"

"How did you get that information?" Jack interrupted, watching Gabriel appear to reel at the question as anger painted itself on the mans face. "That's classified for you."

" _Classified for me_? Jack, what the hell are you even _talking_ about?" When Gabriel lifted his hands, Jack readied himself mentally for a fight, only to be entirely thrown off guard when they held his face gently. Calloused fingers cupped his jaw, rough thumbs painting little arcs on Jack's cheeks as confusion bloomed in his chest.

This felt……

" _Cariño_ , what is going on with you?" Reyes asked quietly, the anger put on the back burner as concern came forth, their foreheads meeting with a soft thunk. Jack's breathing quickened. What was happening? “You’re acting damn weird.”

The statement was so gentle, Gabe tipping his head to brush his lips with Jack's, and-

This felt _wrong._

Pulling himself out of Gabriel's hold, Jack stumbled back, looking as affronted as he felt. "That was _entirely_ out of line for you, Reyes," He reminded, trying to shake away the warmth in his cheeks from embarrassment and his bunkmates hands. "You know better than to touch a superior officer like that."

-

"Superior officer?" Gabe repeated the words like he'd never heard them before, heart splintering in his chest even further. Jack had pulled away from him, Jack wouldn't smile at him, Jack was calling himself a _superior fucking officer_ , and- " _Tomaste la puta posición?_ "

Jack didn't seem to focus on the words like he usually did, his mouth didn't mumble the words to himself again so he could understand what Gabe had said after a moment of thought. Instead, he was met with silence, Jack staring him _down_ , before he growled the words out again. "I _said,_  you took the fucking position?!" This time, it was said with more force, anger mixing with the bile rising in his throat.

Jack had accepted the job.

Jack had taken the job and run off to Switzerland for a few days to avoid him.

Jack wouldn't kiss him.

Jack wouldn't even call him Gabe.

"What I did or didn't do is not up for discussion with you!" Jack argued back, looking distinctly uncomfortable as he turned, heading for the bathroom with Gabe following right behind.

"Jack-"

"I need to take a shower."

" _Jack_ -"

"Reyes, if you do not leave me be-"

" _Jack!"_ Damn near having to yell the word to get the blond to stop talking, Gabriel fought to control his breathing as his lungs seemed to get pressed for air, his boyfriend turning to look at him. "You _need_ to talk to me about this, because this affects us pretty fucking heavily. I can't-"

"There is no 'us'," Jack clarified without missing a beat, not seeming to care that those words took the blood out of Gabe's face.

He'd said it so carelessly. A fact.

Gabriel's brain went haywire, the memories of lasting through a war with this man all falling to shards at his feet while his hands started to shake. That sleepy morning four days ago was the first and last of its kind, killed before it got a chance to live, and Gabe hadn't even appreciated it as much as he should have.

 _I don't think I'll ever get used to waking up this way._ The words had been a warning, hadn't they? They'd felt so sweet at the time, and now-

Taking Gabriel's silence as permission to end the conversation, Jack closed the bathroom door quickly, leaving Reyes standing there with no words left in his mouth, and no will left in his body.

Not for the first time in his life, Gabriel prayed he could wake up from this.

When he took three steps and reached his bed, he didn’t expect his legs to give out from under him. Of course they did, why did they care about keeping him upright? The sound of the shower running started up, Jack staying silent and not whistling stupid show tunes like he _always_ did.

Forcing himself to breathe, Gabe tried to mentally take stock of what just happened to him.

Jack, his significant other- No, no, Jack, his _everything,_  just took his job and threw out their relationship as easy as breathing, and didn’t seem to even care.

Gabe had to have done something _bad_ , to be punished like this by whatever gods or deities were messing with him now. Maybe not in this life, but in another.

The clock hung above Jack’s bed continued to tick quietly, the sound being the only thing telling Gabe that the world hadn’t actually come down around him.

When the bathroom door opened, Jack walked out with a towel around his waist, moving quickly to his closet. Like being shirtless in front of Gabe mattered, which almost got a laugh out of the Latino man. Thankfully it didn’t, because he was damn sure it would have turned into a sob if he opened his mouth. When the bathroom door closed again, Gabe inhaled deeply, his jaw wobbling precariously as heat bubbled up behind his eyes.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-_

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-

The door creaked again. Jack seemed to be dressed in a suit, a different one than he’d dressed in a few days ago.

That suit, Gabe had straightened the tie and listened to Jack’s laugh.

That suit, Jack had kissed him and hadn’t been _disgusted_ , had smiled and walked with Gabe to his meeting.

This one, Jack was straightening his own tie, walking to the exit without so much as a sideways glance to the man sitting on the edge of the bed.

The sound of the door falling shut was so loud Gabe had to wince, _had to,_ because at this point his nerves felt the air in the room, the sun from the window, and only had solace in the silence. One breath in, one breath out, and Gabe was shoving himself to stand, moving quickly and quietly from their- his room. A glance to the left showed the retreating form of Overwatch’s Strike Commander, so Gabe did a coward's march in the other direction.

Breathe in,  breathe out. Breathe _in, in, take a breath damn it Gabe just breathe-_

 

-

 

Ana opened the door to her room without much thought of what she may find on the other side. The very last thing she expected to see was Gabriel Reyes with the epitome of a broken expression clutching at his chest while his throat clicked with a lack of words.

A hand reached out, and Gabe collapsed against her, sucking in a ragged breath and letting out a pained sound that she prayed she’d never hear her child make. Had she been less trained, she may have buckled under his weight, but instead set a hand on his back, the feeling of ice pouring through her chest as she watched one of the strongest people she’d ever met crumble.

“Gabriel?” She asked gently, taking a careful step into her room and thanking the heavens when Gabe worked with her.

 _“Me arrepiento de mis pecados. Todos mis errores, me arrepiento, por favor, lo siento por todo lo que he hecho para merecer esto. Hazlo parar._ ” No matter the language, Ana could recognize begging when she heard it, Gabriel’s voice cracking miserably as his legs wobbled dangerously. When she reached her couch, she sat Gabe down, watching his arms collapse against his knees as he nearly folded in on himself. When she sat down as well, she tugged him to her, laying his head onto her lap so she could pet his hair the way she did with her daughter as she tried to ignore how terrifying this sight was. Each inhale was a jarring movement, exhales short and erratic.

A panic attack, it seemed.

He turned to hide his face in her shirt, entire frame shaking as he spoke into the material. “ _favor. Déjame despertar.” _

Carding fingers through damp hair, she moved minutely to drag the throw blanket off of the back of her couch, draping it over his frame as she tried to think of what the hell could have caused this kind of a reaction from _Gabriel fucking Reyes_. “Shhh, _ḥabībī._  You are safe.”

_" No sé lo que hice. ” _

“Rest, brother. Breathe with my counting.” Beginning to count up to seven and then back down, Ana only let herself breathe properly when Gabriel stopped sounding like he was suffocating. Nearly half an hour passed before Gabe could even breathe regularly, and even then Ana refused to move him. Eventually, as the sun set lower in the sky, his breathing evened out entirely, his body getting heavier as he fell asleep on her lap.

If she noticed the dampness of tears against her shirt, she refused to focus on it, ignoring them for the sake of Gabe’s dignity and a lack what to do with that knowledge. “Athena,” she spoke calmly, not wanting to wake up the ex-commander currently using her as a pillow. “Where is Jack Morrison?”

Jack would have an answer, Jack always had an answer when it came to Gabe. If he was still in Switzerland, then he’d come back once he found out-

Athena flicked Ana’s livingroom holoscreen on, instead of giving a verbal answer. It appeared to be some sort of a news report, with Jack standing proudly in front of a podium. The Overwatch flag was hung to his left, the UN flag hung to the right, and enough microphones on the flat surface in front of him to pick up the smallest whisper.

What he said, however, was clear as day.

 _“It is with great honor that I, Jack Morrison, can be Strike Commander to the phenomenal team that is Overwatch,”_ The Jack on screen said, his smile bright and making Ana’s heart ache with _anger._ Looking down at Gabe, face still pained even in sleep, she rested her hand over his brow, trying to soothe out the furrow there. Gabriel was her brother in arms, as was Jack, and this was- Jack would never….. _“I have never been as proud of a group of individuals as I am of our team, and I don’t think I can put the world into better hands than those individuals, and those of the UN. We aim to make the world a place of freedom and peace, a place for our next generations to flourish, to raise a better future for every life given on this planet. In the face of danger, of loss of hope, of fear, of death, Overwatch will be there, and that is my solemn vow to each and every one of you….”_

The words continued, but Ana stopped listening, Jack’s speech sounding too much like him to make her hope this was some sort of farce.

It was easy to guess what had happened now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I thought I should say that 'Ana 'aetadhir is the phonetic pronunciation of أنا أعتذر, meaning 'I apologize', and ḥabībī is the phonetic pronunciation of حبيبتى, meaning 'love' or 'dear' as an endearment of close friends and family. Endearment translations are;  
> Hermana: Sister  
> Cariño - Dear/Darling  
> Mi Amor - My love
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! see you next chapter fam


	3. Fumar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((And we're back, dun dun. My writing partner and beta for this fic is Laurelie, bless u m8, she is an insanely talented writer and helps with a lot of the fun ideas in this fic. So much Reinhardt and Torby in this chap, I am a happy clam. For translations, hover over the large sentences for translations, single words will be at the bottom! I am also not fluent in any language other than English, so if you see any things that could be corrected, let me know! Also TW: Vaguely self destructive behavior and TW: Smoking. Hope you enjoy!

Ana didn't get the luxury of moving after that.

When Fareeha entered their home later that day, the twelve year old noticed her mother sitting up on the couch, gaze tired and hand patting something on her lap. When the girl walked around the side of the couch and saw Gabriel Reyes curled up there asleep with her mother patting his arm, she looked at her parent with a raised eyebrow and a concerned glance at the family friend. "Shhh," Ana said quietly, lifting a hand and motioning her daughter forward.

Getting pulled into a hunched hug so as not to disturb Gabe, Fareeha spoke quietly. "What happened?"

"It is not important right now. Did you finish your homework?"

A glance down, and Fareeha's gaze snapped right back up. " _Mama he has been crying_."

"People cry, my love," She soothed, squeezing Fareeha's hand. "Now I need you to listen to me, understood?" When her daughter nodded, she continued. "Gabriel may be visiting more often, is that alright with you?"

"….. Did he get into a fight with Jack?" While she may be young, her daughter was far from stupid, and even if she didn't plan on gossiping with her child Ana wouldn't hide the truth from her.

"Yes. Do not discuss it with either of them, however. Understood?"

When she got another nod in return, Ana pressed a kiss to her forehead before patting her side. "Go, finish your school work."

"I usually have Jack help me with it," Fareeha admitted, looking put out by the fact that this wasn't an option.

"What subject?"

Even after years of training, Ana flinched at the sudden question from the man still using her as a pillow. Fareeha had jumped a little too, tan cheeks having a slight flush considering they'd just been talking about him without realizing he'd probably been listening. "American History."

"What period?" His voice was rough, nearly cracking and very quiet.

"Civil war."

"Which one?"

"The first one. We don't cover the second Civil War until after the election of the 45th president." Gabe sat up, slowly reaching to rub at his eyes with the ball of his hand. He still had tear tracks on his face, long dried but evident, as well as bloodshot eyes. Though at very least he gave the smallest of smiles, pushing himself to stand and following as Fareeha headed for her room.

"I know a thing or two about it. Though it doesn't sound like you need much help, _hermana_ , you seem well versed already."

"I get a lot of the facts confused," Ana heard her admit sheepishly, giving a small smile even if her chest tightened. The two continued to chatter as she heard her daughter get a chair for Gabriel, the man giving a groan and complaining that he was too old to sleep like that while the young girl snarked that he should have napped in a bed then.

Sweet child, thinking a grief addled mind had a conscious choice of much at all.

When Ana popped her head in and told them she'd be right back, Gabe waved her off with a nod, engrossed in details about the 54th Regiment as Fareeha read off a 'true or false' question on her worksheet. It was a good distraction for him, hunched in a chair made for a preteen and getting lectured by a twelve year old. Ana refused to disrupt it further, slipping away without another word.

The walk to the common room was short, but startling; upon arrival, twenty or so of the soldiers that had been in her battalion were lounging together and all turned to look at her; the looks of surprise, confusion, interest and worry were worn by everyone. She knew, logically, why they looked that way, but her ears picked up on the sound of the replay of Jack’s speech, playing on the holoscreen hung on the wall. "Turn it off," She requested softly, watching two different soldiers fumble with the same remote trying to get it shut down.

At very least no one had forgotten to listen to their Captain.

When no one moved after Jack's voice was muted on screen, as if waiting for an answer, Ana cleared her throat. "When he returns, feel free to congratulate our new Strike Commander on his promotion." The order was clear, but it got a few nods, and more than a handful of disinterested looks. "I do not want this to be an argument, or a situation of resentment. The UN has made their decision, and that being said, we will respect that decision. If any one of you decides to mention any of this in front of Commander Reyes, you will be speaking to me _personally_. And by that, I mean I will make sure you do not speak again for the rest of the month. Is that clear?"

The overwhelming response of 'Yes, ma'am!' rang through the area, getting her to give a sharp nod back. "Good. At ease."

The tension in the room didn't lessen, but conversation cracked open like an egg, pouring to fill up the space as they all began to chatter about either the elephant in the room or avoid it like the plague. Either way, Ana ignored it and headed off to find a few people in particular.

Thankfully, when she found them, they were sitting together.

Down in Torbjörn’s workshop, Ana again was greeted with the sounds of Jack's speech, her frustration at the blond spiking against her will the more she heard it. When she entered further into the room, she saw Reinhardt and Torbjörn hunched in a set of chairs and looking at a small, old fashioned holoscreen. They seemed to be watching it intently, but when her footfalls came close enough, both of them turned to look at her, Torbjörn looking unamused and Reinhardt confused.

" _Meine liebste freund_ , have you seen?" Beckoning for her to come closer, Reinhardt looked back at the screen with pulled brows, his good eye flicking over every inch of it like it held the answers he was hoping for.

"How's Gabriel?" Torbjörn cut to the chase, which Ana wasn't sure if she was grateful for or not as she walked over to join them. Setting a hand on Reinhardt's shoulder in a form of comfort, Ana sighed.

"It's….." This hardly felt like her information to share. Yet, these two being a few of her closest friends, along with the knowledge that Gabe would never tell anyone if he could help it anyways, Ana's hand balled up a little. Reinhardt slipped a large hand to cover it, pressing it flat just by size alone before he looked over his shoulder to stare at her.

Both men were waiting.

"I do not have full details," She admitted carefully, "Yet judging from my afternoon, it is safe to say that Jack and Gabriel are no longer involved."

" _Jag kan inte tro det ,_" Torbjörn muttered entirely to himself, before looking up. "How could Jack do this?"

"We don't have the full story," Ana said, almost trying to convince herself with the words as Reinhardt squeezed her hand. "We must wait until Jack gets back and work from there."

Reinhardt agreed, but his two friends noticed the set of his shoulders, the discomfort on his face. "Of course, of course. Jack is a dear friend, and he would never do this maliciously."

"So what happened in your afternoon to assume the two of them are finished?" Torbjörn had a bad habit of loving to hear about other people's problems, his only saving grace in the matter being that he didn't share them with anyone else. Still, she refused to betray Gabriel's trust like that.

"It is not my place to say," She deadpanned, "And it is not your place to ask." He shrugged, holding up his one hand in surrender as his claw clicked.

"I was merely worried for my friend."

" _Ja,_ and I am actually a little bunny rabbit," Reinhardt mocked, mouth ticking up in the corner just barely. "You are a horrible gossip."

"Am not!"

"You really are," Ana agreed, Torbjörn rolling his eye.

"Me caring for a friend, gossip! _Herregud_ , you two love to villainize me." Ana and Reinhardt looked at each other before looking back at him, their unconvinced expressions making it incredibly clear how they didn't believe a word of it.

Sliding her hand away from Reinhardt, Ana gave a soft pat to the top of his hand before letting it drop, the man sitting back a little. "For now, I came here to request that the two of you find a way to keep him busy."

"Busy?" Reinhardt repeated, frowning. "Gabriel's schedule-" The realization struck that that schedule was different now, no longer that of Overwatch’s Commander, causing him to give a sharp nod. " _Ja_ , we can do that."

"Torbjörn?"

"Send him down whenever. There are always more things to fix at this scrap heap of a base," Torbjörn agreed, getting a smile in return.

 

-

 

Helping out Fareeha had been a good way to ease into the waking world; sure, he'd woken up to a twelve year old asking her mother why a grown man had been crying on her lap, but he trusted that neither of the Amari's would discuss it with anyone else.

After helping her with three worksheets and even using his comm unit to cheat and look up the things he didn't know, he was offered to stay for dinner by Ana. Instead of just a room, she had an actual home inside of Gibraltar for her and Fareeha, equipped with a kitchen, livingroom and two bedrooms to boot. Provided when she’d joined, seeing as she was Fareeha’s only living relative and the young girl could not stay anywhere else.

This was more than enough space to hide from the world for another hour, which he readily agreed to.

The pain could wait until he went back to his room.

Ana made a pasta and bean dish that lacked meat but made up for it in flavor, which Gabe picked steadily at. She didn't let him stop until he'd gotten through at least half of it, with Fareeha chatting about how she had to get up early tomorrow for training and asking her mother if she could ever teach her how to handle a gun.

Both adults shut that idea down immediately, getting her frowning and pushing her kushari around on her plate, but eventually bouncing back.

When dinner was over and Gabriel had actually had a meal instead of just coffee, he made the decision that he'd overstayed his welcome. A hug from Fareeha and a pointed look from Ana, and he assured he'd be checking in tomorrow.

"Please do," Ana insisted, wrapping up a plate of the food and offering it to him as he said goodbye from the doorway. "For now, sleep." He barked out a sharp laugh at that, though it was hardly amused, getting her rolling her eyes. "Then lay down somewhere and close your eyes and _rest._ "

It was a nice thought, that he could do that.

Seeing as Fareeha had been there all day, Gabe hadn't had a chance to tell Ana what had happened between him and Jack. Though, the more he thought on it, the more he decided that he didn't want to tell her just yet. Or anyone, for that matter; the idea of having to relive any of that made bile rise in his throat, the taste sharp on his tongue and ruining the remnants of his nice dinner as he headed back to his room.

His hand froze right over the door handle for a total of four seconds before he grabbed it, twisting it and pushing.

The room was dark. He'd spent all day at Ana's, which had cushioned him from the cold reality that the sight of his and Jack's bedroom brought; it was no longer him and Jack.

It was now a singular, just him. Jack had made that beyond abundantly clear right before he walked right past Gabe without so much as a sideways glance.

He wanted to be angry.

It would be so much easier to be mad, angry that Jack would be gone for five days and then choose a job over him. Gone for five days without so much as god damn phonecall before coming back and acting like Gabe was insane for thinking that they were still dating.

Instead, his entire soul seemed to ache with the knowledge that this was all over. Sadness wanted to drown him, heat building up behind his eyes the way it had when he had gotten to Ana's.

_There is no us._

The words rang so loudly, like Jack was saying them again as Gabe glared at the evidence that they'd lived together in this room.

Okay yeah, nah, anger was the way this was gonna go.

Fuck sadness.

That night, the room got cleaned pretty damn easily; there was Jack's side, and there was Gabe's side. No more of this shit of having things between the two beds, of their closets being a proverbial clusterfuck of mixed clothing and packed boxes of things from home; The room was _purged_.

Every time he pulled out something that had a strong memory linked to it (Old Halloween costumes, a scarf his mother had made for Jack, that stupid long black trenchcoat Jack had insisted on getting even if the one he wore was blue), Gabe forced himself to just look at it from the 'his or mine' perspective, and made piles.

A box of things he’d brought from home was pulled from the bottom of Jack’s closet. He found a beanie his mother had made for him. It was similar to the one he was already wearing, but just a little bit thicker of a yarn constructing it.  It smelled like his house, and faintly like-

“What the hell?” He muttered, another sniff assuring him that yeah, it smelled the slightest bit like cigarettes. Which was surprising because while his _Papá_ smoked pretty often, his mother refused to have it anywhere near the house. Hated the smell of it to high heaven and back, even if it made Gabe think of quality time with his father, sitting on the porch and breathing in the warm air of an LA night.

A quick peak into the box revealed what had made the cap scented. There was a pack of cigarettes there as well, the memory flashing of his father giving them to him as a gag gift when he was leaving for Gibraltar after a visit home saying they were good stress relief.

It had been a month before the Crisis, and Gabe hadn’t had a chance to go back through all of this.

The cap replaced the one on his head, while the cigarettes moved to rest right next to his bed, the rest of the box being unpacked slowly but surely.

By the time one AM rolled around, Gabe was stripping the beds, throwing the sheets and blankets into a pile on the floor. Then, he thought better of it and also went to his closet, one sniff telling him all of this was _infected_.

Everything smelled like Jack.

When a soldier that was about five years younger than him and a lot more tired stumbled past the laundry room half an hour later and saw their Ex-Commander using four washing machines at once while mumbling to himself, they froze, made eye contact, before immediately deciding to never bring this up again as they scampered off to their room.

It took about two hours to finish all of his damn laundry. Three baskets, too, annoyingly enough.

Back in the room, he sorted out which books were his, which comics were his, which fucking socks were his. His decorations, his pictures, his shampoo, his cologne, his memories, his life. Everything got shifted, left, right, Jack's, Gabe's, bad, good.

Four AM rolled around before Gabe flopped back on a bed that smelled nothing like Jack, hands shaking and heart lurching as his nose betrayed him and desperately searched for the scent of Jack's aftershave. Any evidence that he'd ever woken up with Jack in this bed with him, any evidence that Jack had ever been his-

No. No sadness.

_Anger._

Forcing himself to sleep facing the wall, not wanting to see that damn room, Gabe set his alarm for six before tossing his comm unit to the side.

 

-

 

The next day, Gabe hit his comm twice and ended up dragging himself out of bed at ten after six. A shower, making sure to use the right shampoo, and Gabe got dressed with clothing that all just smelled like detergent.

Out of the room by half past six, and Gabe headed for the kitchen.

A rare few were loitering around at this hour, most people still passed out seeing as it was the day before the one week mark for the war ending and they were still giving themselves time to recuperate. When the awake soldiers caught sight of him, one gave him a nod and a smile while the other went pale in the face, pointedly not looking at him and instead at the cereal they'd managed to scrounge up. The two very different reactions painted the picture pretty well that they both knew something was up.

The one that looked like they were about to throw up was startled when Gabe walked past them, greeting him with a, "Morning."

"Morning, sir," the (probably) teenager greeted, giving a nod.

"Any particular reason why you look like I'm about to bite your head off?" He asked lazily, exhaustion heavy in his bones as he went about making coffee. The sound of the soldier choking on cereal didn't go over Gabe's head, but right now nothing seemed particularly funny.

They beat on their chest, the low thud resounding quietly in the kitchen before saying a strained, "Pardon me sir?"

"I'm not gonna ask again."

"….." The poor kid looked stuck between confused and terrified, before admitting, "Captain Amari said-"

"Said what?" Gabe pushed, the sound of the coffee pot rattling before pouring out the first drips of his daily energy refreshing to his ears.

"I- It-" The stuttering was almost sad, the poor kid obviously stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"We were told not to mention anything to you about Strike Commander Morrison, sir." The other soldier who was eating their breakfast, a woman who had to be in her early twenties, spoke, covering the younger stuttering soldiers ass. "Problem is, most of us were unsure if you knew of him being Strike Commander at all, so many of the soldiers are nervous to accidentally be the ones to tell you." Her steady tone, paired with the leveled look she gave Gabe as she spoke, got him blinking once.

The coffee pot gave a deathly rattle, spitting out steam to break the silence that had fallen as it worked hard behind him.

So everyone knew about Jack's- _Strike Commander Morrison's_ promotion. Either the news got delivered yesterday, or-

“How did you two find out about his promotion?” Carefully avoiding having to say any form of Jack’s name out loud, Gabe looked at the girl, trusting her to give a straight-forward answer.

“He made a speech yesterday,” She responded.

No wonder the kid next to him was damn near shitting themselves when he walked in, they probably thought he was angry over the promotion.

God if only they knew.

"I appreciate the honesty," He managed to say casually, digging out a mug and removing the coffee pot from under the stream even if only had about two inches of dark liquid in it. It was enough to fill a cup, which he'd take, replacing the coffee pot and sipping at his mug as he walked out of the room.

It felt silly, to peek down the hallway, but the last thing he wanted was to ram headfirst into a solid chest and crop of blond hair. But right now, he wasn’t sure if he’d smash the mug he was holding against Jack’s pretty cheekbone or get misty eyed if he ran into him, meaning he needed to avoid him like the plague. Chances were he wasn’t even still on the base, seeing as Gabe hadn’t seen him since yesterday, but anxiety crawled up the back of his spine at the thought.

“Athena?” His voice rang in the hallway as he walked towards the training room, drinking a large gulp of too-hot coffee as the AI registered him drawing her attention. “Whereabouts of Jack Morrison?”

“Strike Commander Morrison is no longer on the Gibraltar base.”

And wasn’t that just a shot to the heart while also flooding his system with relief. Wincing at her saying his full title, Gabe glared up at the ceiling, his voice unamused as he  clarified, “Where is he located then?”

“... Strike Commander Morrison is located in the Swiss Headquarters.” Had she hesitated?

“Can you do me a favor, Athena?”

“That depends.”

“Can you stop calling him Strike Commander Morrison?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Alright, different favor then.” Still looking at the ceiling, he took another drink. “Can you warn me when he gets back to base?”

“I can make sure to alert your comm unit as well as give you verbal preparation,” She assured, the worry of running head first into Jack disappearing more fully as he reached the training ground.

“Thank you. Can you unlock door 2-A for me?”

“Security clearance?”

“Code: 456V958C5.”

“Access granted.” The door slid open before slamming shut when he walked towards it, causing him to jolt backwards. “You have one hour of training time.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, _what_?”

“You have one hour of training time,” She repeated without missing a beat, causing him to growl low in his throat.

“You don’t get to dictate how long I train for.”

“It is as a precaution to avoid overexertion.”

“Who’s orders?”

“Winston’s.” That got Gabe grumbling as the door opened back up.

Muttering under his breath and slipping off his hat, Gabe dared to down the rest of his coffee, eyes watering at the pain that bloomed in his throat over it. Both got set down before he walked over to the punching bag that he’d used a thousand times.

This time was different.

Usually when he was training, it was out of making sure that he was using proper techniques, or actually trying to get stronger.

This time, that sadness-turned-anger was getting an outlet, and he wasn’t about to stop for any damn reason.

He punched until his breathing picked up. Until his stance widened, punches turning more intense and less wobbly. Until his jaw set and his frustration became a fighting force, driving him to hit that little bit harder, that little bit faster. Until his lungs were burning from exertion and his eyes were squinting because sweat was pouring in them. Until his arms were aching and his knuckles felt like they were splitting. Until there were patches of red wherever his fists met the leathery material, until a split formed and he was forced to stop from the punching bag actually starting to spill out some of its contents.

When he took a minute to breathe, a glance at his hands told him he’d fucked straight up. His knuckles were bloody and raw, causing him to damn near groan in frustration as the pain struck like a train. He hadn’t even realized they were injured before that, christ he was out of it.

Instead of going to Angie, he taped them up, the action he should have done _before_ he even thought of throwing punches, and ignored the sensation of his heartbeat in the bones of his hands. Instead, he changed gears by getting on a treadmill.

When Athena shut off all the lights after he refused to stop running when his hour was up, Gabe forced himself to leave the training rooms with an empty cup in hand, bloody taped knuckles and a scowl.

It still didn’t seem real.

Any second, he was expecting Jack to round a corner, to kiss his cheek and ask what the hell happened to his hands, to apologize for yesterday.

It was never gonna happen.

Fuck he needed a drink.

 

-

 

The next two weeks were those of trial and error.

First off; due to SEP, Gabe _couldn’t_ get drunk. This wasn’t something he’d really tried before now, and it frustrated him to no end that he had gone through the disgusting process of drinking an entire bottle of Everclear and was still standing. Probably fate making that happen, considering he was trying to get smashed on a Tuesday.  Meanwhile, Reinhardt had three shots of the stuff and was down for the count, Torbjörn having also imbibed and singing in Swedish as Reinhardt howled with laughter.

At least someone was happy.

Second off; he hated his bedroom now. Sleeping in there was beyond miserable and right next to impossible. While Gabe wasn’t the most reliable when it came to sleeping, he still at least didn’t want to feel like someone was blasting his chest with a shotgun anytime he laid down in bed and heard absolutely _nothing_ from the other side of the room. The smell of the pack of cigarettes next to his bed worked to calm him down a little, make him think of when he was younger and things were less painful and complicated.

Third off; his abs were impeccable. Even if Athena banned him from using the training rooms for a long period of time, he could still work out in his own time, and by god did he. The pain from a good workout was just enough to keep his brain off the hyper-analysis of a broken heart. Pushups, situps, running laps, anything to make his muscles ache and his body tired. He’d started getting called down to Torbjörn’s workshop, asked to haul heavy beams or metal or scraps for the shorter man, even if he could damn well do it himself. But he let Gabe, and it was honestly the kindest action he’d gotten from Lindholm. The man offered the opportunity to exhaust him and distract him in one fell swoop.

And when he was finished with hauling supplies until his body felt ready to collapse?

He went for a jog.

Anything to get that face out of his head.

Eventually, Gabe was running only on coffee and fumes, yet still entirely sleepless. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw sweet blue eyes crinkling, the softest smile on the planet, _the words “I love you” being said in the middle of a warzone and-_

This led to a trip to Angie’s office.

Fourth off; their seventeen-year-old medic was _psychotic._

“A month or two, maybe three.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re saying that like you have a choice,” Gabe said in a vaguely threatening tone, though there was no fire behind it. Right now, his eyes looked sunken in, cheekbones sharper than not from lack of a proper diet for the past six days and shoulders slumped.

“Cute, Gabriel, you’re threatening me like you’ll live afterwards.” Crossing her arms, the Swiss kept her expression passive, even while her eyes narrowed. “I am not putting you in a coma.”

He needed to get knocked out. Just to let his body recoup from putting it through the wringer for the week, but also to let his mind recoup from getting shredded and let his heart recoup from getting chewed up and spit out. Anything to let him not be conscious for a while, he would take. “This isn’t a debate, Ang, I need you to-”

“You force me to put you in a coma, and then trust me not to overdose you? Not to pump air into your veins until I facilitate a stroke in you? Not to put you down, slice you open, and then wake you up to pick your intestines off the floor?” Each threat was said with the same casual tone Gabe had just used, but the man looked almost stunned as he stared at her with a slack jaw. Angela was entirely about saving people, hating every form of malice and intent to harm and only signing up with Overwatch because she knew she could do good. Hearing her say any sort of threat, even knowing she would never go through with them, managed to genuinely surprise him.

“You’re twisted, _hermana._ ”

“We just went through a war, Gabe.”

“You’re an _infant,_ the fact that you’ve seen _any_ of that-”

“Infant? Please, continue to tell your medic, who will save you from this point onwards, how they are a child. I’m listening intently.” Tipping her head sideways and cupping her ear obviously, Angela batted her eyelashes, waiting for Gabe to continue.

Instead, she was now the one thrown off guard to see his form go slack,  the only tension in his body being his hand covering his face as his head hung.

“I don’t wanna be awake anymore.”

Her hand fell away from her ear before her expression went from teasing to worried, the air now serious. “Oh. Oh, Gabriel.”

“I can’t sleep, he’s _everywhere_. He’s in the shower, next to the bed, in the mess hall, in the training rooms. Hell, the _bastardo_ is even down in Torbjörn’s shop if I turn my head too sharply. Any time I close my eyes I have to _mirarle a los ojos_ and I can’t _do_ it.” Tipping his head to look at her, he looked pleading. “A few months of peace, _por favor_.”

“You _know_ I can’t do that,” She hushed, though a horrible voice in the back of her mind wished that she could just so her ex-commander looked less pained.

When he left, she made sure to tell him to stop by for sleeping pills. He could stay in the infirmary, or sleep on the futon in his office (It was staying his office, Winston had assured him of that much). Maybe not being in that room would help, she’d pointed out.

Fifth off; bad habits were born of stress and anger. When Gabe had gone to his room later that evening, he’d grabbed his blanket and that stupid pack of cigarettes that now felt like a security blanket. They were brought to his office, where he planned on working for a while that night before getting sleeping pills from Ang and crashing on the shitty futon.

When he started to even glance at all of the groundwork he’d laid out when waiting for Jack to get back the first time, it made his stomach lurch. The stress that had been there then had increased tenfold now, making his hands flit between each piece of paper and hating everything he’d already planned.

A glance over at the pack of cigarettes, and he was reminded that his _Papá_ used to pull in a long drag, the smoke billowing out and curling lazily in a way that was almost hypnotizing. The taste was bad, he used to say, but it helped him relax.

Good stress relief.

Back to the papers, then back to the pack.

Plucking the small container up, he flicked it open only to find that there were already a few cigarettes missing, but a lighter tucked in there instead. Huh, his _Papá_ must have just given him the pack that he’d had in his pocket. The idea got a quiet chuckle before Gabe pulled out one of the sticks, the colorful filter meeting his lips as he tugged the lighter out and lit the end.

An inhale, and his lungs burned painfully, the man coughing out a plume of light grey as the smell filled the room. It stung like a bitch, and yet somehow even with a charred throat and watering eyes, he wanted to take another inhale.

So he did.

They had to have gone stale from sitting in that box for so long, and already tasted horrible. Yet by the end of the cigarette, Gabe was able to hold a lungful of the smoke for a solid three seconds, before blowing it out steadily.

Sure, he still coughed, and it tasted bad and hurt like a bitch, but at least it was nice to watch the billows of grey move around above him.

Lighting up a second one and dropping the butt in the coffee cup he’d reserved as an ashtray, Gabe went to work.

Two hours passed before he registered he had smoked six cigarettes and felt jittery as the devil. It must be the nicotine, making him feel both sick and energetic as he worked, notes cleaner than before but still not clean enough as he exhaled through his nose. That still boiled his sinuses, but it felt nice in it’s own weird way, contributing to the ridiculous amount of smoke already in the room.

“Gabriel?” The little voice was soft before the door handle turned, the smoke near the exit rushing out as it was opened and sending Fareeha into a coughing fit. His head whipped up to look at her as she bent over, pulling her shirt over her nose and mouth and looking at him like he was insane.

“ _Mierda, por favor no se lo digas a tu madre._ ” His voice came out horribly raspy, as if he wasn’t already caught red handed.

“You smoke?!” She asked, coughing again with welled up eyes simply from the amount of fumes in the room as she opened the door wider. It was starting to pour out, slowly but surely, and only then did Gabe realize that wow, he’d smoked a _lot_.

“It’s not what it looks like,” He croaked, raising a hand as the other stubbed out his half a cigarette. “Just don’t tell your mother.”

“You don’t think she can’t smell _this_ -” She motioned at all the smoke around her dramatically, “from a fucking _mile_ away?”

“.... Did you just swear, _senorita?_ ” Gabe questioned, eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“...... Please don’t tell my mother,” She settled on, sliding her hand over her still covered mouth as she looked at him in horror at herself for letting a swear word slip.

“Well maybe we can work something out,” He bargained, turning around to open up the window of his office and letting the rest of the cigarette smoke pour out.

It turns out that Fareeha was there to drag him down for dinner, seeing as the only person he’d really interacted with much in the last week was Torbjörn and the entire group was worried. Even after spraying Fareeha down with enough perfume to suffocate a man and Gabe changing his clothes, the second the two of them stepped foot into the dining room Ana was staring with narrowed eyes.

She sniffed the air once.

“Why were you around smoke?” She asked her daughter, who froze midstep at her mother’s accusatory glare before accidentally glancing back at Gabe, who was just sitting down at the dinner table.

“Uh-”

Another sniff, and Ana’s gaze honed in on Gabe. “My god, you smell like a walking carton of cigarettes.”

“Fareeha said the ‘fuck’ word,” He rasped accusingly, Ana’s head swiveling to look at her daughter as Fareeha went wide eyed.

“You _snitch_ _!”_

“All’s fair in love and war, _chica_.”

Sixth off; Work was the best distraction he had. When they’d given him the packet of information for how to deal with this new ‘project’ of Blackwatch, there had been a lot of suggestions. Words in the margins, sticky notes with ideas that they insisted would be ‘worth it’.

They wanted it to be filled with soldiers like Jack and Gabriel, ones who had gone through intensive training and who could deal with the workload of working with a shadow organization. Though, the longer Gabe thought on it, the more the idea irked him. There were vague estimations of losing soldiers nearly every mission, and the thought of someone going through the hell of the SEP only to get killed right off the bat didn’t sit right with him.

Then there was the problem of the UN not wanting to supply the training _for_ those soldiers, instead offering up just regular recruits instead. The training these people would have gone through wasn’t technically the most conventional for what Blackwatch needed; from what it seemed, they needed to be versed in torture, interrogation, lying under duress and stealth.

While they may have the last one down pat, the first three even got Gabe’s hackles rising and he had been a leader during the SEP. They needed to find people to train to go through all of that as well as know how to shoot and fight, which made his skin crawl. How was he supposed to teach someone how to be ruthless?

The answer came in an unexpected way. It had been a chat with Reinhardt, the two drinking coffee in Gabe’s office. The German gentleman had surprised Gabe by pulling out a cigar when Gabe lit up a cigarette. “You smoke too?” He questioned, holding out the lighter and watching Reinhardt lean to light his own vice, puffing twice before the tobacco caught and turned the tip to embers.

“Once in a great while, ja, but not like you've picked up.” This earned a level glare, though Reinhardt grinned around his cigar. “Spending time in your office is a good excuse; Ana would hardly appreciate finding out I imbibe, and your cigarettes hide the smell.”

“You that afraid of her?” Gabe teased, plucking up his pencil and starting to finish the sketch on the pad set slightly to his right. He was trying to figure out a standard uniform for Blackwatch members, and so far had come up with basic dark khaki material pants (Ugly in their usual color, but had a quick drying time and could retain heat well), black thermal material shirts and a utility belt. Ana had teased him that it was reminiscent of that old superhero, Batman, but he’d shushed her quickly and added a few more pockets for various tools sheerly out of spite. His sketch even contained the same cap that he wore daily, which would be a standard issue if he had anything to say about it.

He also had three other ones on the pages behind it, but that was beside the point.

“And you are not?” Reinhardt challenged with a grin, taking another puff and blowing out a plume that made Gabriel’s exhales look like childsplay.

“Fair point,” The ex-Commander muttered, inhaling again and pulling the red glow further down his cigarette. His habit had started about four days back, and apparently when Gabe did something he did it all out; Instead of a few cigarettes a day, he went through a pack, meaning that he’d had to duck off base a few times already before just settling on buying a carton at a time. Thankfully, he got the same brand that his _Papá’s_ was, even if it was a little more expensive, so he didn’t have to adjust to a new taste after finally finding some comfort in this one. Maybe it was having strong lungs, or maybe it was having been put through months of injections to get the super soldier body he had now, but Gabe’s lungs seemed to deal well with the new strain. Hell, besides the first day, he didn’t seem to even have the same amount of pain that came with it, just the rush from the nicotine and the curb of his already dwindled hunger.

Lena had teamed up with Angela to literally drag him to eat dinner a few days ago, each girl grabbing an ear and not listening to the overwhelming amount of threats they received in a language neither knew before Angela started to bite his head off about the dangers of smoking.

Then again, both were under the age of twenty and knew that with them he was all bark and no bite, meaning they were sent to get him any time Ana felt like it had been too long since he’d eaten.

Which was daily.

“So exactly how hidden is this organization supposed to be?” Reinhardt questioned, watching Gabe draw a lazy line on the paper to sketch out the collar of the little figures shirt.

“Technically you shouldn’t be seeing any of it,” Gabe admitted, before pausing. “Wanna read through some of what I have planned?”

A booming laugh filled the room before Reinhardt sat forward, biting down on his cigar as both hands lifted in a ‘come hither’ motion. “You are speaking to a master tactician; there is nothing that interests me more!”

Black eyebrows bounced up. “Master tactician?”

That got Reinhardt pausing, his hands still open and waiting for the papers as he himself looked confused. “You did not know?”

“I knew you were a decorated soldier, but I didn’t know tactician.” Passing over his current plans as a very obvious ‘Fuck you’ to the UN and their ‘classified’ bullshit, Gabe sat back.

“Tactician and recruiter,” Reinhardt said with a nod, chest swelling as he got a proud curve to his posture. “Many years of service before I was the one choosing our next generation of fighters. _Mein Gott_ those were frustrating days.”

“Frustrating?”

“But of course! We were strict on whom we allowed in our ranks, meaning I had to turn away many good people. The annoyance of having to throw perfectly good men to the wind because of their pasts.” A sigh, and Reinhardt puffed his cigar. “Shameful.”

“You can’t have criminals as soldiers,” Gabe agreed, only to watch Reinhardt roll his good eye.

“ _Unsinn_! Some of the strongest candidates were people who had seen war before ever touching a battlefield! Seen death, dismay, horrors in their own streets! Many of them had been involved in a gang called ‘ _Die Beraubt_ ’, pulled in when they were desperate during poor times. Several tried to sign up for military service, and showed such promise! They wanted to get away from _Die Beraubt_ by enlisting, becoming more honest men and falling under the protection of the law so they would not get hurt while trying to leave.” A long drag, and he sighed out the smoke, now looking incredibly forlorn. “Bah, the lack of protection we could offer! Refused to take thieves, criminals. While some were rough around the edges, they offered something innocents couldn’t; _experience_. They handled horrors better than not, knew things beyond their ages. The ones who enlisted wanted retribution for their pasts.”

“They sound _perfect._ ” As Reinhardt had been speaking, Gabe had been staring at the pile of papers the man had been holding, his cigarette dropping from his mouth as he lurched to grab them.

“ _Guter Gott!”_ Dropping the bundle, he watched Gabe immediately begin to flick through it, Reinhardt flicked his cigar ash into the overflowing ashtray that now adorned the corner of the ex-Commanders desk while staring at him. “Was it something I said?”

“The people no one consider,” Gabriel clarified, “Not the super soldiers, but the people who have the skills I’d need in Blackwatch.”

“What about them?”

“When J-” The word fell away, with Gabe clearing his throat, gaze flicking around and settling back. “When Morrison and I were in the SEP, they taught us how to operate as the most efficient soldiers in the world. Problem is, you can’t force true callous in someone who’s never truly fought. Hell, even now if you throw on James Taylor, Morrison’ll burst into tears and sing along about Sweet Baby James.” A small smile, but it was pained, before Gabe flicked the pages a little sharper and speaking to forget.  “What I’m saying is, they taught us fighting and self defense but we didn’t learn until we’d been through the Crisis. You can’t send a new group of recruits through that now.”

“So you take the people who’ve learned otherwise and offer them the protection of Overwatch!” Reinhardt realized, seemingly delighted by the prospect. “There are many good people whose records are held against them, you can offer something brilliant!”

“The hope is they can offer something brilliant in return,” Gabe mumbled, finding the page with yearly projections that the UN had estimated for costs and losses. “These ex-criminals, how promising were you thinking?”

“From what I saw? Most were more than proficient in shooting, they were all decent when it came to stealth. Good at lying, so good for undercover. The only problem was the mistrust that was held from a military standpoint; as it is said, old habits tend to die hard. There was no reason to trust them when they had pasts of betrayal and deceit.”

“That’ll be a risk I have to take, won’t it?” Gabe pointed out, eyes roaming over the numbers. “They estimate I could lose up to two agents a mission, missions interspersed to up to three a month, some lasting for weeks. Longer the mission, the more high risk it gets, but this would just be using standard soldiers from basic training.”

“Fresh off the line and easily disposable,” Reinhardt supplied.

“ _Sí._ The main reason there would be casualties would be lack of training, but it’s not like the UN can _importarle una mierda_ when it comes to losing lives. Hell, they estimate having missions for me in a few _weeks_ , how do they expect me to teach covert tactics when I hardly know them myself?”

“You hire people who already know the basics.” Of course, this was what Gabe had been heading for the entire time, but it was nice to hear that the idea wasn’t entirely outlandish, judging by Reinhardt stubbing out his cigar with a grin. “ _Mein freund_ , there is no motivator stronger than revenge and spite.”

“But how do I recruit a team?” Gabe asked, suddenly feeling very out of his depth at the prospect. While it worked well in theory, the actual construction of a team, let alone a team of ex-criminals was a hard thing to comprehend. He had no practice in this, not to mention that at the moment it was a mere pipe dream. He also had no idea how to find the right people, or how to go about getting them to work for him.

Thankfully, Reinhardt reached to take the papers from him again, the chair creaking as he crossed his leg over the other and flipped the first page open. “Ask politely,” He said, eyes shining at the prospect of the challenge ahead.

  


-

  


“You really sure about this?” Lena’s voice cut through Gabe’s train of thought as his hands tightened around the binder in his hands, head snapping to look at her.

His foot was bouncing, fingers itching to be curled around a cigarette that he definitely couldn’t smoke on an airship like this. Looking at the young woman, his hands gripped the thick file in his hands tighter, jaw set as he gave a nod. “Do I not seem sure?”

“Not really!” was said in a chipper tone, the pilot turning her gaze back to the sky as her mouth curled a little in the corner. She had to be just about eighteen, a mere kid, and was currently flying one of the most advanced ships in the world like it was nothing. Rumor had it that there was another ship that they had interest in her piloting, ‘Slipstream’ or something if Gabe remembered correctly, but that may just be a lot of hot air. For now, Lena seemed comfortable in her current ship, one that had been saving people since the first day of the Crisis and would continue for a long time to come. Honestly, if he didn’t feel like she was too damn nice to be a part of it, Gabe may have tried to recruit her for Blackwatch.

The two were about ten minutes outside of the Swiss Headquarters, a place that Gabe felt like may as well be constructed of lava, wasps and nightmares even if it was surrounded by lush and gorgeous scenery. This was now Jack’s territory, and Gabe knew that with his luck he’d run headfirst into him and turn into a cotton-mouthed mess.

It was impossible not to think about him every day. How could he not? The most important person in his life was suddenly gone, the smallest and stupidest thing reminding him of a situation that he was still unsure of how he messed up. Even if he spent his days burying his head in his work and spent his nights popping two small white pills from Angie to sleep, there was a thousand seconds a day that Jack ruined his focus.

Any time his mind wandered or his heart beat too hard, he let that sadness slip to anger, a scowl becoming a more permanent feature on his face.

Though, if anything, the unrelenting anger he’d turned any upset at the situation into was a good motivator in the realm of throwing himself into his work.

Blackwatch was _his._ Not Overwatch’s, not the UN’s, and _definitely not Strike Commander Jack Morrison’s._ Every bit of blood, sweat and tears that went into the plan for this organization was poured over by Gabe, the only thing he didn’t have absolute control over being the members. Those, he’d left to Reinhardt, but after speaking with the initial fourteen recruits and finding all of them beyond suitable (The Gentle Giant had good taste, Gabe had to admit), he’d still felt confident with the choices. There were no changes that were going to happen to this organization, because it wasn’t an _option_. If they insisted on creating some chintzy little black-ops group to make Gabe feel better about getting the rug pulled out from under him, they were gonna have to deal with him sinking his claws into it and holding on until his last breath.

The overly thick folder got tucked to his chest. Blackwatch was what he had left, and nothing they said could change it.

The Swiss Headquarters got a solid twenty minutes of warning from Gabe and Lena as they entered the airspace surrounding it. He requested the young recruit to fly him earlier that morning, and she more than readily agreed. Thankfully, the clearance he gave was good enough when they  got into the Headquarter’s airspace, meaning they didn’t get shot out of the sky within five seconds on the grounds of ‘trespassing’.

“How long do you plan on being in here, then?” She asked conversationally, the aircraft tipping a bit to the left as a building came into view. Still far off in the distance, but shining brilliantly in the sun, causing Lena to pull on orange-tinted sunglasses and Gabe to simply avert his gaze.

“Ten minutes or less, if I can get away with it. Don’t wanna stick around.”

“That because of Jack?” Her bluntness was like a slap, but more in the surprise aspect than the pain aspect. After that first day, no one had mentioned the Strike Commander to him directly, everyone politely changing the topic whenever it got brought up and always turning off any news stations that mentioned the situation.

So, he offered her the same bluntness. “Yes.”

“Y’know,” She started, brown hair shifting as she turned her head to look at him, “When I last saw him, he was acting beyond odd.”

That was interesting to hear, causing him to frown. “How?”

“He-” Nose scunching, she shook her head like it’d dispel her discomfort. “I was the one who had to drop him at his speech.” Right. For some reason, the idea hadn’t struck that one of their own would have brought Jack to his famous speech that got the world fawning over the blue eyed, blond haired savior. “Had to fly ‘im to Madrid, and when I saw him he just…. Well he bloody acted like he barely knew me!”

Hearing that got his gut lurching painfully, a tiny niggling of something in the back of his chest getting shoved to the side as he narrowed his eyes. “Explain.”

“I hugged him, asked him how he was. One of the more awkward conversations I’ve ever had, and let me tell you, I thought those were hard to beat! It’s like he knew my name, but seemed so confused that _I_ knew _him_.” She seemed put out by this, sitting back a little and wiggling her feet underneath the control panel as her brows tipped on the end. “I wasn’t allowed to talk much, after that. Those UN suits are bloody brooding, staring me down like a stray word would end the world.” Silence for a moment, and she now looked a little guilty. “I thought it was odd, especially when they sent him on a different aircraft after and told me to return to base alone. Though, when I heard the speech the first time after that, I just guessed that he was trying to seem professional.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Gabe admitted, his mouth tasting sour at the idea of Jack stinting Lena’s bubbly personality. The two usually worked well together as well, but then again, so had Gabe and Jack.

Looks like Gabe wasn’t the only one Jack decided to treat poorly on his two-hour glimpse at Gibraltar.

Noticing his dismay, her eyes went wide. “He didn’t do that to you, did he?”

“You’re real damn nosey, you know that?”

The deflection was too fast to be anything innocent. “My god he did! What an absolute twat!”

“I ain’t gonna argue against that one.”

“No wonder he froze up when I asked about you!”

“You what?” That drew his attention back in, dark eyes locking with hers as she frowned.

“When I saw him, I asked if he’d talked to you. Hate to break it to ya mate, but you’d been acting ridiculous while waiting for him to come back, and I was worried! Though he looked similar to a kicked puppy when I brought you up, and that’s around the time I was banned from talking-"

“ ** _May I have your attention, please._ ** ” A robotic male voice filtered through the aircraft’s PA system, both Gabe and Lena being rendered silent by the sheer volume of the announcement. “ ** _Upon arrival to; Overwatch Headquarters, Swiss Division- Please make sure to stay securely buckled and seated until the aircraft has come to a full stop. After the carrier has been decontaminated, guards will be ready to escort you to your destination. Please refrain from having firearms present, and if traveling with Omnics, it is requested you run shutdown procedures until reaching your destination. Thank you, and welcome to; Overwatch Headquarters, Swiss Division._ ** ”

“We’ll be talking more about this later,” Gabe assured as he buckled up, fingers fiddling with the corner of his file as Lena gave a two finger salute, eyes now ahead as she focused on landing.

“Yes sir!”

  


-

  


It wasn’t for another twenty minutes that they got inside the Headquarters. Another ten of Gabe waiting with guards on either side of him, a man chatting quietly at the desk outside of Ms. Lao’s office while the ex-Commander stood pin straight, dressed in a nice shirt and pants but hardly a professional outfit by any means.

Inside the Swiss Headquarters was stunning. A lot of it was constructed of windows, giving way to gorgeous scenery and a fantastic amount of natural light. It made the place seem so happy, and open, both of which were absolute bullshit in Gabe’s book. In his head, this was still a place that his best friend had turned against him, meaning that it was a veritable hell.

Then again, he may be biased.

Every minute that passed by had his anxiety raising. At this point, he was borderline desperate for a smoke, something to take the unrelenting edge of Jack rounding the corner any second off. Two weeks of smoking and he was already weak from it, the need to bounce his foot or jiggle his leg damn near overwhelming. Instead, he stood with his gaze straight ahead and his hands holding his file in a vice, the speech he’d prepared in his head getting repeated over and over and over and-

“Mr. Reyes.” The woman’s voice rang through the area, not a question but a flat greeting. The guards let him walk into her office without incident, Ms. Lao already sitting back down by the time Gabriel was closing the door behind himself. “What can I do for you today?”

 _Now or never_.

“You told me that Blackwatch would be honored to have me.” When he said this, he was pleased to see her look surprised at that.

“I was unsure you’d accept the challenge.”

“Yeah well I did.” Hefting the oversized folder, he walked over, dropping it onto the table in front of her and listening to the thud reverberate in the minimally decorated room.

“... What is this?”

“It’s Blackwatch.”

“...... Mr. Reyes-”

“This isn’t up for discussion.” When her gaze became incredulous, Gabe crossed his arms. “ _This_. Is what my team will look like. Is how things will be run. I am not here for your confirmation, I am not here for your _approval_. I am here to _inform_ you. To _warn_ you. You accredited my work as the man who ended the Omnic Crisis, and you know damn well that my experience makes for a better plan than any bullshit stipulations you or anyone in the UN could come up with for a black-ops organization. If I’m running a shadow organization and putting _my_ neck on the line, we are doing things to my caliber. This is what it will be, and if that is an issue, you can kindly _vete al infierno. ¿Compreindo?" _

It was obvious the second he finished speaking that she didn’t want to accept anything he’d just said. In fact, the disdain on her face when she looked at the folder made Gabe think she probably wanted to throw it away. Yet, through an honestly impressive bout of self-control, she inhaled, held, then exhaled. “Alright.”

… That threw him for a loop.

“... Alright then.” When she didn’t argue further, Gabe was damn near about to wait for her to say ‘just kidding’ and shove the folder back towards him. However, she continued for him, hand resting on the file that probably had the faint scent of smoke on it.

“I am assuming you have a team organized?”

“Yes.”

“Background checks?”

“Yes. Five armed robberies, seven cases of gang affiliation, four cases of grand larceny, eleven cases of grand theft auto and two cases of cat burglary.” The two made eye contact, and he shook his head. “No, I’m not kidding.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I told you this wasn’t a discussion.”

“We can provide better soldiers-”

“Not better than these.” It was a ragtag group, ages from twenty-five all the way up to forty-six. Honestly, if Ms. Lao took the time to go through each of their files, which she probably would, she’d find more crimes than what Gabe listed. Good to give her a slight warning, though. “I hand picked my team, those are the soldiers I want. They are better trained than anyone you could provide me from basic training, and I’d prefer a team of highly skilled individuals to pawns that’ll get shot down on every mission we go on.”

“This is unacceptable,” She hissed, opening and leafing through the pages until she found the first criminal record. “How can you expect to trust-”

“You gave me Blackwatch. Any problems we have are on my head.”

Another deep inhale, and she forced herself to close the file before glaring at him. “If your first mission is inadequate, you will lose your position, is that understood?”

“Of course.” Giving a forced smile, he motioned at the door. “Permission to leave?”

“You will receive details for your first assignment within the next three days,” She listed, “If the mission is done poorly, if any word of Blackwatch ever reaches the ears of the public, or if one of your ‘ _soldiers_ ’ defects, you will be held personally accountable.”

“And if my plans for Blackwatch are met with sudden changes without my approval, all three will happen at once,” He promised. Ms. Lao looked stunned at that.

It wasn’t often that someone would lose enough braincells to threaten the UN, but Gabe at this point hardly could care; the threat was there, and from someone who had been of use in the past. With that being a fact, he wasn’t going to be the easiest person to dispose of; after a lot of introspection, he’d dared to believe that he really had been a good fit for Blackwatch. Not good enough for Overwatch, apparently, but the fact still stood that he ended the Omnic Crisis, and if something came up again, he could be of use to them.

Which was his only security net with daring to threaten the biggest organization in the world. If his guess had been wrong, he’d be dead by tomorrow, but the odds felt in his favor.

She closed the folder, looking away from him as her hand curled in a loose fist on the pile of papers. “You are dismissed.”

  


-

  


When Gabe saw Lena standing outside of the airship, she gave two cautious and questioning thumbs up, getting a small smile and a nod in return. “Whoo!” She cheered, providing a grin before ushering him aboard. “They listened to your pitch! That’s all that matters right now love, and I’m very proud.”

It was sweet that she thought he was just pitching an idea instead of making a shadow organization in the belly of a world saving organization, so Gabe wasn't gonna spoil that for her.

“I’m gonna tell you now, if I end up dead in the next week, it’s because I said a few things I definitely shouldn’t have,” He admitted, watching her roll her eyes.

“Actually I’d think it’s from the amount of smoking you’ve done. Honestly, it’s like you’re trying to imitate a chimney with that junk.”

“Everyone’s a critic.” Yet even as he said it, Gabe was daring to give a smile. His 'pitch' had been listened to, and even if she hadn’t seemed happy about it, Ms. Lao seemed at least willing to look through his proposal.

Sure, he’d threatened the UN, but that was a minor detail to the feeling of success that radiated off of this in big fat waves. He had been dismissed, but watched her flick open the first page of his proposal, starting to read notes that he’d rewritten in his best handwriting on how he wanted Blackwatch’s training to be done. No one was going to be considered disposable, and that was something that he was adamant on.

Who knew? There may be a chance that someone would listen to it.

For the first time in a few weeks, Gabe felt like he had some semblance of control in his life.

“Oxton. Reyes.” Looking past Gabe and over his shoulder, Lena’s expression fell to a blank one, the all too familiar voice behind him unfamiliarly clipped and formal.

“Strike Commander Morrison, sir!” She greeted, snapping to position and giving a salute as Gabe tensed.

Well. So much for control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((If it seems like Gabe isn't as upset as he should be, trust me, that's feelings being bottled my friends. Which just means an explosion later E:  
> Translations!  
> Mein Gott, Herregud: My God (German and Swedish, respectively)  
> Papá: Father  
> Hermana: Sister  
> Por favor: Please  
> Senorita: Miss  
> Chica: Girl  
> Unsinn: Nonsense  
> Die Beraubt: The Deprived  
> Guter Gott!: Good God!  
> Mein freund: My friend  
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!!


	4. ¿Quién eres tú?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Hello!! It's been a while!! I am eternally sorry and if it seems oddly paced, its because it's been a hot second since I've written lol. Hope you enjoy!

All he did was give a nod, and it was enough to make Gabe's blood boil as that crop of stupid blond hair came into his line of sight. Morrison walked by without a care, like he hadn't ruined Gabe's entire life the last time they'd spoken. Then again, this was the same man that had walked away when Gabe began to have a panic attack, so that shouldn't have been much of a surprise. Didn't change the fact that it was insanely painful and disrespectful and awful and fuck, he was getting off track. 

Quick eyes darting between the pair of them, Lena cleared her throat before hooking her arm in Gabe's carefully, bringing his attention back to the present. "Time to go, love," She urged gently, obviously unsure of how he'd react to either contact or loading into the plane with _Strike Commander Morrison_. When he gave a languid nod and patted her hand with his free one, she at very least supplied a smile, walking with him up the short ramp and into the main bay area. 

It had been fixed up a little to be a transport ship of people during the war, and now at least looked a little more comfortable than just some massive hanger filled with boxes and metal. There were chairs, a few holoscreens to keep an eye on the news while they were in the air. Hell, even a basketball hoop, recommended by a young man as he threw a small ball around when they ripped him and his family out of the destroyed remains of Echinwalde. The age of five, and he barely had a clue that his family home had been destroyed, his parents both shushing him as Reinhardt spoke to them kindly. 

Kicking one of the stray basketballs that had fallen out of the rack and watching it bounce off the table and hit over a small bottle, Gabe felt an odd sort of satisfaction at Morrison's flinch from the sudden noise. Though when Lena left his side and he sat down, only for the Strike Commander to sit /across from him/, he had the sneaking suspicion that this was going to be an incredibly long flight. As a goodbye announcement played over the speakers in the same robotic voice as before, Gabe's gaze settled on the other man in the carrier, not at all surprised to see Morrison not looking at him right back. 

Though, he didn't look nervous. No, more curious, which didn't make a damn lick of sense. Jack had spent more time in this carrier than he'd spent out of it, constantly loading up civilians and being flown to new battles.

Reminders of the times that the two of them had to play patch up while Angela was out on the field came into mind; Many lives had been saved here, but a lot had been lost too. Thankfully everything was made of steel, easy to wipe down and clean up the evidence of the carnage left behind by the Omnic Crisis. Now that the war was over, this place shouldn't see hell like that for a while, yet it still made his skin crawl. 

Watching Morrison's gaze, Gabe noticed his eyes settle on the stairs leading to the cockpit, brow furrowing just barely. It was a place the two of them often fell asleep while on guard, leaning on each other while keeping Lena protected, seeing as no one could get within a twenty foot radius without getting a pulse rifle and a shotgun leveled at them. 

When those blue eyes flitted away without even a hint of recognition, Gabe pulled out his cigarettes, Lena's yelling be damned. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to deal with this, and he couldn't stand this awkward silence as the plane lifted without something filling his lungs.

Lifting the small stick to his mouth, he was actively surprised to hear Morrison talk, his gaze accidentally meeting the Commanders. 

"You smoke those things?" 

His eyes narrowed, jaw setting. 

That one question got Gabe's hackles raising, mouth opening to respond when a rushed, "Jack! Mind coming up here for a moment?" rang from the intercom, saving the inevitable fight for another time. When Morrison got up and left without a glance back, Gabe lit the cigarette and took a long pull, skin feeling too tight for his body and legs feeling restless. 

Shoving himself to stand, he took another drag even when his lungs ached from being too full. The exhale released a plume that drowned out his vision for a moment and let him think he was away from this. 

Away from him.

-

God bless Lena Oxton. 

For the duration of the flight, Gabe remained alone. Lena kept the Strike Commander occupied, through both conversation and silence alike. Even when she peaked down to tell him that they'd be landing in fifteen minutes and got a face full of smoke, she didn't yell. 

"You're my best friend," He assured her as she gave a glance back towards, obviously wondering if Jack would follow. 

"I know, and you owe me," She sighed, rubbing at her face with a single hand. "Do you know how boring it is to sit through a conversation about UN investors? I've said three words and just been pretending to listen the whole time. All I had to do was nod every few minutes and give a few 'mhmm's. I remember him being a lot more fun than this, back in-"

"Yeah well this is a different Jack, okay?" Christ, saying his name felt like swallowing glass. Shaking his head and mentally reverting back to 'Morrison', he glared up the stairway to the cockpit. "Fame does stupid things to a person."

"What, turns them boring as a box of rocks?" She scoffed, watching Gabe's mouth tick up just barely before she reached and plucked the third (fourth, maybe?) cigarette from his hands. Dropping it to the floor and grinding the embers out with the heel of her shoe, she said, "I think he just feels as awkward as I do. He knows that he was weird last time, and it doesn't help that any time you two even look at each other, I think guns'll be drawn!"

"Hey, I wasn't the one who-!" Starting defend himself, she waved a hand, shutting him and his angry retort up immediately. 

"Whoa whoa whoa! I ain't sayin' he's not in the wrong love, I'm saying that he's hiding up there as much as you're hiding down here! Looks damn near like a kicked puppy."

Reaching for his pack of cigarettes, he rolled his eyes, mumbling, "I'll show you a kicked puppy if he questions my smoking again." 

She bapped the pack away with a frown, Gabe barely managing to catch them. "No more of those! You have fifteen minutes, no more smoking on board." 

"Only if you keep him away from me."

"Oh trust me, that glare of yours is doing it all on its own."

That was something he could work with, at least. 

-

"-And then, and then, the fucking cherry on top of this maldito desastre, he decides to make a snarky comment about me smoking? Who the fuck does this entitled, arrogant, _estúpido hijo de puta_ -"

The second the plane had an open window and a distance from the ground that wouldn't kill him, Gabe jumped out like a cat dropped in water, leaving the area without so much as a backwards glance. He definitely owed Lena, for the fairly uneventful ride, but that didn't change the fact that he desperately wanted to get out of there. 

God only knew if he so much as opened his mouth around Morrison, he'd practically have a conniption. There was roughly fifty thousand things he wanted to say to him, things he needed to ask him, but he'd been away from base until now and- 

Well to be fair he was just too fucking mad to even think about doing anything but punch him. 

So instead, Ana and Reinhardt got to hear all of it. 

The two sat back, Ana cleaning her rifle and Reinhardt leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees as he listened intently. So far, he'd told a moment of meeting with Lao, and the rest ranting about his ex. How weirdly civilian it was got Reinhardt literally on the edge of his seat, while Ana tried and failed to fight off a sigh. 

"Gabriel." 

The use of his full name got him slowing down, words getting cut off as his teeth clicked. "What."

"As much as I enjoy the story of a spurned lover, I need you to tell me if he said anything else to you," Ana clarified, not looking up as she disengaged the scope from her gun. "Or did he really only make a single comment about your smoking?"

"He- ..... When- ....." Looking away from her, he sounded put out, "It may have only been just the smoking thing. But his tone-"  

"Wow." Letting out a hiss though his teeth, Reinhardt tisked his tongue. "Weeks of silence, and instead of a conversation, he offers criticism." For a moment, his mouth lifted in a smile. "He has turned into you, it seems."

"Why are you trying to kick me while I'm down?" Gabe deadpanned, arms crossing as Ana finally set the pieces of her weapon on the table. 

"He's right, actually," She pointed out, sitting back, "Don't you find it odd that someone like Jack wouldn't want to talk to you about all of this?" 

"Look, what Morrison wants to do or doesn't want to do is his own prerogative." 

"Hardly! Did he not rip your still beating heart from your chest and throw it to the ground mere weeks ago?" Reinhardt asked, both Ana and Gabriel giving him such displeased looks that he gave a soft shrug in return. "A little dramatic, but true, admit it. My point is, Jack would not want the rest of his friends to think poorly of his decisions. He also would not want remaining animosity left in you! After years of knowing one another, you do not really think he would-"

"I do. I do really think that, you wanna know why? Because he did rip my heart from my chest mere weeks ago, and did it with a god damn smile. He took my job from me, hid from me, basically spit in my face, then decides to criticize my life decision of smoking like its any of his fucking business! If he says another word to me about it I'll shove the entire pack down his goddamn throat and light 'em up for him so his stomach can get a nice healthy dose of nicotine, eh?"' Disgusted expression holding a hint of something else, and Ana and Reinhardt both stunned silent by the sheer hatred in his voice, Gabriel broke his gaze, turning to leave with a tense frame. "Talk to him all you want, but don't think that this will ever change."

Watching his receding form, Reinhardt laid a hand over Ana's, which was clenched into a ball against the sofa they were sitting on. "They will make up, _mien liebling_ ," He tried to shush, only for her to sigh. "This team is a family, they will see through their differences in the end."

"I really do not believe they will," She said, something about this all striking her the wrong way. "It isn't right."

"Nothing is right, a-"

"No, I mean something about this isn't right. This can't be how Jack would usually act, picking a job over Gabe."

Silence, before Reinhardt spoke quietly, sounding nervous to be heard. "People fall out of love every day, _schatzi_ , and people can feel different after a war. When we were in battle daily, it seemed like the end of the world, and the people around you were the ones for the rest of your life. Being safe, realizing we would live to see another day… He may have changed his mind on who he'd like to spend it with."

Turning her hand to squeeze Reinhardt's in return, Ana looked back to where Gabriel had fled, shaking her head. "I hope, for Gabriel's sake, that that is not the truth."

Though. 

Perhaps, just maybe. 

Reinhardt had a good point. 

Sure, Jack had ended things poorly. Well, 'poorly' was an understatement. Jack had ended things in the worst possible way, and yet.

Yet Ana still knew what it was like to fall out of love. 

It was after her daughter was born, when her husband at the time had started being distant. He was not home as often, and Ana didn't find herself often missing him. She was on leave for making sure to spend time with Fareeha during her formative first few months, but the itch to get back into combat was unparalleled. Often, she found herself feeling total indifference based off of his presence or not, merely happy spending time with her daughter or doing paperwork while she was homebound for the Egyptian Military. 

Over the course of time, they talked less. Sharing a bed when he _was_ home was now a task, having no room to spread out and not wanting contact from the other if they did. It made animosity boil between the two of them, both not sure what was happening to their relationship but neither able to do much to change it without identifying the problem. 

Their words became sharp, and fighting was constant. 

It took ages to realize that the love she'd felt for him when they'd said their vows had left a long time ago. He was still important to her, but not in the same way. Not anymore. 

Admitting it had been similar to chewing glass. It took so long for her to come to terms with it that by the time she finally made it into a discussion, it quickly turned into a fight. 

It was the reason Sam, her then separated partner, moved back to North America. To give them space, to hope that it would make the heart truly grow fonder. 

All that followed was relief. 

Their divorce had been finalized mere weeks before the beginning of the Omnic Crisis. 

Perhaps this was how the Strike Commander had been feeling, being swept away to Switzerland and realizing that he had been feeling cornered? 

Only to have all of his friends side against him.

"Ay," Ana sighed the further she thought, damn near flopping against Reinhardt's large side. "This is terrible. I will never forgive the pain that Jack caused Gabriel, but I can't ignore that Jack may be going through pain as well."

"It is not as if we can pretend everything is the same," Reinhardt pointed out, sighing as a tree trunk of an arm wrapped around Ana delicately in a form of comfort. "I will make an effort, to be kind to our Strike Commander. After all, it is Jack! One of my greatest friends. However we should avoid trying to intrude on his and Gabriel's feelings, lest they are offered up in conversation _ja_? For the sake of sanity?" 

Ana merely nodded, though a traitorous part of her mind wondered how Jack was faring. Gabriel wasn't the same Gabriel that they had worked with all that time, but she hadn't been able to gauge one of her oldest friends new mannerisms just yet. 

-

Whispers followed Jack every step he took through the base.

It was odd, being back here. It felt like an eternity ago that he'd walked these halls, seen the warm light of the sun pour through the windows. He remembered being here right after the end of the Crisis the most clearly, but just talking to a few men from the UN before heading for his room. 

Right, his room. Jack really should get some rest.

The past few weeks seemed to be a mental blur, but wasn't everything these days? Hell, the war was just one colorful shape of hell in his head, not having much memory besides the carnage. It felt like he was both bursting with energy and worn thin 

Even the ride back that morning had been tiring, talking with their pilot. She was probably bored, but Jack speaking of the government side of things shouldn't have been new. He'd always done that. 

He was so sure he'd always done that. 

The time in Switzerland had been as much testing as that first few days that he spent there. More injections, which he despised, but common things like checking his vitals, sleep tests, the like. A lot of sleep tests, but they had their purposes. Probably to make sure he had no residual damage from the war, which he came back mostly clear from. For that mere fact, Jack was grateful. 

He avoided the news while away, all the reports reminding him of what they'd just survived. Evidence of the carnage made his head hurt, his breathing come too fast. 

It was better to avoid it. 

The ride back had been…. Odd, to say in the least. Talking to Lena Oxton, one of the youngest pilots to ever handle the overtly advanced ships of the Overwatch fleet, had been interesting. They knew each other, and Jack knew this, but it must not have been much. 

God, he felt like he'd slept too much now that they weren't on the run. It was all just out of reach. 

The other person on the transport had been Gabriel Reyes, a dark eyed man with an apparent temper. Jack's brain supplied that they'd worked together a little bit, before it clicked that Reyes had been the previous Strike Commander. _No wonder he hates me, he probably feels like I took his job._ If they'd had much bonding during the war time, Jack's brain wasn't letting him know about it. His spotty memory had been diagnosed as PTSD from the doctors at the Swiss Headquarters, which explained a lot to him really. Looking back at the war made things too vivid in his mind, meaning the friendships he foraged were going to be more muddled thoughts than actual memories. 

Though Reyes seemed to be angry that he was even on the ship, so maybe there wasn't much comradery there in the first place.

When was the last time they had even talked? Had to have been before the end of the Crisis, right?

He got a lot of people standing to attention when he walked by, but he made sure to sooth each one with an, "At ease." They seemed nervous, but a switch in your standing Commander could do that to a group fresh out of war. 

When he saw a hulking figure of a man approach him, Jack remembered him, if vaguely. 

They must have been friends quite a while back. 

Reinhardt Wilhelm, a previous Crusader. He must have fought in one of the other battalions. 

"Jack, my friend!" He called out as he approached, voice as big as his body before a hand came to pat his shoulder. While the contact wasn't all that welcome, it didn't look like the man realized that. In fact, he seemed incredibly familiar with him for reasons that Morrison couldn't remember. 

Damn PTSD. 

"Reinhardt," He greeted with a nod, watching the other mans smile grow bigger. 

"Ah, so you do remember me! A little birdie informed me that you seemed to have some spots in your memory. Of course, I am a big spot to fill," Reinhardt patted his chest as he spoke, which did earn a small smile from Jack. 

"I'm doing much better. I think it was simply stress, from the end of it all." This, Reinhardt's expression dropped the slightest bit at, for reasons Jack didn't know. Was he that shaken up by the end of the Crisis?

"Ah, _ja_. We have all been very ah….. Concerned, you could say. That was a very sudden thing to happen, no one was quite expecting it." He looked like he was picking his words carefully, but why would he be concerned about the end of the war? 

"Well it _did_ have to end sometime," Jack said, before he got a pain in his temple. A small headache, nothing major, but his wince was noticeable to the point that Reinhardt seemed to clam up. 

" _Es tut mir Leid_ , for bringing it up. Really, Jack, you should rest! So much travel right after our victory, you should not be so hard on yourself." Another pat, and Reinhardt offered a smile that seemed just a touch sad. 

Nodding a little at that, Jack reached up to rub at the area on his temple lightly, clearing his throat, "That's uh…. That's a good point. I think I need some sleep." Flashing a short and polite smile, he excused himself, not liking the feeling of eyes on his back as he made his way towards the Strike Commander headquarters. 

When he got there, there were already boxes of his stuff stacked shoddily outside. Had he put these here? Jacks brows furrowed as he reached out to touch one of them, seeing random items shoved with seemingly little to no care inside each one. "Huh," He said softly, only to hear a throat clear next to him. 

A look down the hall, and a woman was standing there, arms crossed and expression level. 

Ana Amari. Her, he remembered a little more, but just barely. Horus, from the Egyptian Military. A renowned sharpshooter.

"Need some help?" She asked the longer he stared, mouth tipping into the slightest smile and getting Jack to unclench. It seemed to him like nothing had really changed, but he felt out of place enough to feel an odd sense of guilt. These were his comrades, but they seemed faded, somehow. 3-D people compared to 2-D memories. 

Jack would visit the doctor after he slept, to ask about it. 

"I'll take a hand," He assured, picking up a few boxes and thanking the A.I. as it opened the door for him. Behind him, Ana got the last two, requesting the door get closed with a 'Thank you Athena' that got Jack shifting a little. 

Athena, right. Athena. 

Seems he'd forgotten that too. 

"So how are you feeling, _sadiqaa_?" Ana asked as she moved to set one of the boxes down on the bed. Beginning to dig through it, she at least was polite enough to separate the items into organized piles, something that the person who'd put all this away had not bothered to do. 

Jack looked around the room as he spoke, feeling some sense of unease in here. Sure, he'd just been promoted, but there was something….. Missing. A bone deep feeling that even without unpacking, he'd left something behind that belonged in here. "Fine. They concluded I may have some memory issues due to stress, since I'm feeling a little spacy. I don't seem to be forgetting much though." Nevermind that he only remembered his friends upon seeing their faces. Bringing one of the boxes over to the large desk on the right half of the room, the box started to get lazily sorted through, that pain in his temple still present. 

"Yes, Lena wove a very good tale of you not recognizing her when she dropped you off at your speech. She told me and Reinhardt about it right after it happened, though I'm sure others on base know by now." At least Ana sounded amused, if not more reserved. 

Silence fell, the clinking of various items leaving their cardboard holdings being the only sound in the room. 

Eventually, Ana broke. 

"So. Are we going to discuss Gabriel?" 

This gave Jack pause, in the middle of folding his shirt. It smelled like the cologne he'd been using since before basic, if not a little stale. God, he could barely remember basic. Had he been pulled right from it into the war? "What about him?" He asked, glancing over at her and watching her freeze momentarily. 

She swallowed, then gave a nod, clearing her throat. "Alright," She said quietly, sighing through her nose. A peculiar reaction, but when Jack opened his mouth to ask what she meant, he was interrupted by the A.I. 

Athena! Her name was Athena. "Strike Commander Morrison, you have two representatives from Finland waiting on call. They were supposed to discuss the construction of an Overwatch base with you. Would you like to take the call in your room?" 

A look at Ana, and she gave an understanding nod before a two finger, half hazard salute. Without waiting a moment, she ducked out, seemingly thankful for the distraction while Jack fought back a sigh. 

So much for a nap. "Yes, please patch them through, uh…… Athena."

"Of course, Strike Commander."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Lmao poor Reinhardt. They were having two totally different conversations lol. Next chapter we get to meet the first few people of Blackwatch and that is all I care about lol. Also thinking of bringing in Gerard and Amelie! Bless for ur patience fam, and thanks for reading!!


	5. Trabajo en equipo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((So I wrote an 11,000 word monster of a block and decided to post them about two days apart, so eyy, there will be an update real fast after this one. I hope you guys enjoy!

“Anyone else feel eyes burning the back of their heads?" Gabriel glanced back over his shoulder, watching the eyes of his new crew flick back and forth between the soldiers watching them. They had a wing of the Gibraltar base to themselves, one that typical soldiers could not access; One that saw Gabriel as their Blackwatch Commander. The only other people Gabriel had allowed access to were Ana, Reinhardt and Torbjorn. It had been hard leaving out Angela, Fareeha and Lena. Should they need him, they could call for him on his comm, but he never wanted the younger members of their crew to have contact with this division.

Actually, _he_ didn't want contact with this division. But it was what he had, and he'd run it to the best of his abilities.

The agents Gabe had been waiting on had shown up about an hour ago. They'd flown in from a few places around the world, courtesy of the UN, not that they'd ever admit it. His meeting with Lao hadn't even been three days ago, and now he was expected to be able to run this team smoothly on an operation he wasn't entirely sure about just yet by the time he got information tomorrow.

14 recruits.

As he walked them through the base, the soldiers he'd fought side by side with held disgust in their eyes.

"You should ignore them," Gabriel said in a voice that could carry back to the end of the line, the murmuring behind him falling quiet. When he got to the black door he was looking for, he rested his hand on the small glass face of the scanner, the door sliding open when it recognized his handprint. He kept it there long enough for the group to pass through the doors, going last himself. The room was what looked like a stretching entry to several training rooms, simulations that Athena had kept in working order while the world had been at war. Now, they were private, only for Gabriel's recruits.

The door on the other end of the hallway was stainless steel, a handprint scanner working on that one as well. Before the end of the meeting, the people who chose to stay would have to get theirs each taken, giving them access to the dormitories.

"Fall in," Gabriel requested, trying not to feel amusement as the group in front of him took their time. He had to be stern. Some trepidation hung in the air; All these people had applied to be part of the war effort at the beginning of the Crisis, and were now confused as to why they were requested by Overwatch as agents only when the danger had passed.

"Athena. Roll call, please."

"Yes, Commander Reyes. Shin Bai."

"Present."

"Dana Reids."

"Present."

"Hugo Bjorn."

"Present."

Jack Watson, Allan Fords. Daphne Testla, Kaitlyn West, Edward Akens, Milo Dawson, Mali Promade, Thato Ouma, Sai Dubu, Lana Colomar, Niro Talga, all present.

Right.

When the last member was finished speaking, Gabriel put his hands behind his back. "My name is Gabriel Reyes. I was the Strike Commander of Overwatch during the Omnic Crisis, and now I stand in front of you as a commander of an operation called Blackwatch. Each one of you were hand selected by a man named Reinhardt Wilhelm, a man who many of you had requested recruitment from at the beginning of the Crisis. Those of you who did speak to this man were chosen off of your public records, because what I saw in them, I liked."

"We don't have to work with the rest of those assholes though, right?" The voice, belonging to a tall, very thin man named Dawson, asked the second there was a break in Gabe's speaking. "I'm not a fan of soldiers usually. Sure they're all kinda pricks, but they looked seriously pissed. Ain't a fan of that kind of vibe bein' so obvious. Hell, if we ever did any sorta mission together they'd probably shoot us in the back and pin it on the enemy."

This got some nods of agreement, before Gabriel raised a hand to reel their attention back in. "No. No, you'll maybe see them in passing at times, but that's all. They won't be the ones watching your back on the battlefield, that will strictly be me and the people around you right now."

"You serious? Because if I have to do that walk of shame every morning I think one of them is going to be learning how weak the knee joint is within the week," mumbled Testla, fire red curly hair shifting as she glared back at the door they just came through. This got a volley of other people complaining, all of them already on edge from being in an Overwatch base.

Hell, if Gabriel was in their shoes, he wouldn't blame them.

The organization painted itself as a shining star, when really they had to keep any dirty work on the DL. That was why this subdivision needed to be created; couldn't have all of your perfect soldiers killing first and asking questions later, could you?

"I would like to start off this meeting on the right foot. That being said; Fuck the UN." Every person besides Gabe in the room looked some degree of surprised at that, the complaints dying down. Still, the Commander carried on. "Fuck most every world government, fuck the UN, and fuck Strike Commander Morrison. None of them have any say with this group, and none of them ever will. Any ill will that you have towards them, I both understand and accept. Speak what shit you want, just not about each other or myself." A pause. "Or Athena, our AI. She hears everything and probably doesn’t deserve it. Letting off steam or having a discussion is one thing, but being an asshole without cause is another.

"This organization is not going to be your shot at redemption. Do not mistake it as such. This is going to be each and every one of you doing what needs to be done in the world, because someone has to. And if you do stay? You have my protection. Any old enemies, spilt blood or unburied hatchets will cease being a problem should you join Blackwatch.

"You all have some things in common, believe it or not. None of you have living family, which makes joining easier. Your relationships outside of this may continue, but I will have to screen what you send out. Any word of Blackwatch hitting the eyes of anyone in the public, including people you trust, will lead to your immediate termination. Any defecting will be met with your immediate termination. Should you join, you are in with us for the long haul. Should I decide to allow your dismissal, we will be keeping tabs.

"This is not a light decision. This organization is going to be subvert of Overwatch. We will not be getting public praise, and we will not be doing things that seem like an immediate benefit to the world. This group is and always will be the boogeymen that clear out the trash, so the rest of the world is able to move on properly. We are going to be doing the work that others are afraid of, at high risk of death.

"The UN expects us to lose several soldiers a mission. They view you guys as expendable, and I don't buy into that." He shrugged, looking unimpressed. "I think they are _hoping_ for you guys to be disposable, because I’ll admit they weren’t happy with my first choices. Between all of you, there are more federal offense charges than there are in the average US city. I believe they would love nothing more than to write you all off as criminals without seeing potential, but I do.

"This is going to be a trial by fire. Don’t expect me to know everything, because I plan on learning from you guys as much you plan on learning from me. Should you stay, this _will_ be your new family, and you will treat it as such. Should you do anything to endanger your fellow soldiers for personal gain, you will find my fist so far up your ass I’ll be able to open and close my hand and make you yap like a puppet." That earned amused glances between Testla and West before their eyes went back to Reyes. "Should you view anyone in this group based off of anything other than their personality, and you will get a very similar result. There is no room for hatred in a team this small, whether race, sex, ect. If you have any immediate biases, I would prefer you leave now rather than have me beat them out of you later.

"I can allow room to learn a soldiers life. I will not tolerate insubordination as some weird form of dominance. Teamwork is the only way all of us will survive, and it will take time and a lot of hard fuckin' work before we all figure out what assets are the best for each of us and how to function as a team.

"So," He inhaled, held it, then exhaled. Looking between the faces in front of him, Reyes tipped his chin up, "If you want to join, the door to your left is the access to the dorms. When you place your hand on that scanner, Athena will take your print, and that will be the start of your testing phase into Blackwatch. The door to your right is the exit, which we will have one of our Overwatch pilots bring you back to your drop off points."

He waited. Watched as the people in front of him, some standing respectfully while others had their arms crossed over their chests tightly, stared him down.

The first one to move was Bai, who looked at Gabriel, up and down, before he took a deep breath. "Boogeymen, huh? You make it sound fun," He said quietly, giving a wink before he moved to the left.

"Agent Shin Bai, welcome," Athena greeted, scanning his hand in and opening silver doors. The room seemed to break out in movement then.

Only one agent moved towards the right initially, before stopping halfway. Gabriel turned to look, arms crossed, only to see their current youngest recruit stuck at an impasse. A glance between the line that was forming in front of the silver door, before again at the door leading back to the rest of the world.

"If you're having second thoughts, I wouldn't recommend staying," Gabriel stated, only to watch the kid start at the sound of his voice. Mali Promade, 25, hailing from Italy and already known for cat burglary, grand larceny in the amount of over $11,000, and grand theft auto. Brown hair pulled up into a low bun, big brown eyes and sharp jaw, with shoulders that seemed ready to creep to their ears when they were addressed.

They had so much red tape over their record that the second Gabe had seen it, he could only think of how living underground would be the only option. According to Reinhardt, they were frustrated at the lack of acceptance, and he'd had to turn them away as well.

They had offered to join during the bare beginnings of the Crisis. They knew how to be covert, had offered to no less than three different recruitment buildings, only to be rejected by each for the mistakes they'd made in the past.

"I-" Promade inhaled deeply, glancing back at the group, then to Gabriel. "I've never been part of an organization."

"Most of them haven't either," Gabriel assured, though the kid didn't seem too convinced. "You made an effort to join at the beginning of what felt like the end, and that dedication didn't go unnoticed."

"It did by my government," They stated bitterly, dark eyes flicking back towards the black door. "They did not want me."

"We do. You're valuable, considering the shit you managed to pull off. Your stealth is an asset. Personally? I've got no fuckin' clue how to even go about being Special Ops. You need training on shooting? I need training on stealth. So maybe, we can help each other out."

Another look at the black door, and then back to Gabriel. "Why would someone give you a Special Ops division if you do not know stealth?"

"Because there's more than a few world governments who want the reins on this project and they're probably hoping that this is a massive failure so they can take over. If I'm guessing right, the UN didn't want me to have any part of this anyways and hoped I'd turn it down. So they didn't give me training, and let me choose my team hoping I would fuck up."

"….. Your honesty is-" Promade's nose scrunched, "Odd. Commanders are supposed to be loud, strict, no?"

"I found out pretty recently that I probably wasn't built for that kind of commanding. Doesn't hold a team together as well as you'd think. If I plan on having a group like this, I don't plan on acting like I know better. I can shoot a gun and lead a team, but I can't sneak into a building or take down an entire division by myself. I know that."

Promade took one more deep breath, swallowing thickly. "Very Three Musketeers," They said, looking serious for being teasing. "Very all for one and one for all."

Dropping a hand to their shoulder, Gabriel began to lead the last recruit towards the barracks, looking amused himself. "Yeah, well. You gotta learn what kind of team you wanna be a part of through trial and error. Trust me."

When Promade's hand met the scanner, Gabe gave a relieved sigh.

Blackwatch had its first 15 official members.

-

It took a few days before Jack could make his way to see their medic.

When he got there, he was greeted with a bright smile from the resident medic.

 _Angela Ziegler, callsign Mercy, was part of the Swiss division_ , Jack recalled the second he spotted her.

She seemed genuinely happy to see him, which felt…. Odd for them being mere acquaintances.

Then again, he was missing a lot about the people around him wasn't he?

"Angela," he greeted with a smile, though that got her looking at him almost oddly.

Almost.

She was quick to smile again however, waving a hand. "Jack! I am glad to see you back on base! I heard you spent time with the UN at the Swiss Headquarters, I find myself jealous."

"Well, I didn't get to spend much time outside of meetings and some testing, so it wasn't as if I had a chance to enjoy the scenery."

"In any case, it must have been lovely to be off this base. Just a few weeks and most of us are going stir crazy already."

“There's always wars to fight, and we've got plenty of soldiers ready to do so." Again, he noticed her expression flicker before she cleared her throat, reaching for a pair of gloves.

"What brings you in, Jack?"

"Headaches. They've been almost constant." Since he'd stepped near that plane and saw Gabriel and Lena, he'd had the smallest pressure on the back of his head. Seeing Reinhardt and Ana had turned the pressure into pinpoint headaches, and it hadn't stopped since. They were making him sleep poorly, and non stop conference calls really hadn't helped that.

"Hm. Have you been staying hydrated? God knows those serums they pumped you two full of make you both dehydrated easily."

Face screwing up, Jack looked back up at her. "Excuse me?"

"The SEP serums? The ones you and Gabriel-" the second she spoke his name, Angela's mouth snapped shut, seeming to realize her mistake. Ana had warned not to mention Gabriel, to give Jack time to adjust. On the flip side, the mention of the phrase 'SEP' got that stabbing pain returning to the the front of Jack's head, causing him to look pained. That sounded so familiar, but he couldn't place it. Had that been the name of the building he'd been in in Basic?

"I am sorry," She said immediately, snatching up some little flashlight and trailing over, "Forget I spoke on it. On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

"Uh-" He didn't want it to seem like he was dying. It was discomfort just into the realm of pain, so he gave a low-ball. "5?"

Nodding, Angela reached and pulled up one eyebrow, exposing Jack's eye to flicker a light in it. Frowning, she repeated it on the other eye. "At the end of the Crisis, were you having these commonly?"

"Not that I remember."

"And have you hit your head since then?"

"What? No, I-"

"Your pupils are not dilating properly. The left is going slowly while the other is a pinpoint. Is it alright if I run some tes-"

The two of them were silenced by Jack's comm chirping loudly, causing Angela to turn and write something in the chart she'd pulled out the second he'd walked into her office, while he pulled out his comm. She had complete charts on all of their soldiers, though she saw none as often as the main 4.

And Lena, Lord knew she loved to get in the thick of things.

"I'm sorry, I have to take a call," He sighed, looking put out at the prospect.

"Of course. Duty calls," the younger girl hushed, trying to offer a reassuring look. "I have some of the painkillers you and G-" Clearing her throat, she glanced at the ceiling, murmuring something to herself in a language Jack did _not_ understand before replacing her smile once more. "The stronger medication you use. Stop by when you need it, ja?"

He requested some right away, surprised when she reached over and grabbed it out of one of the top drawers. Noticing his glance, she clicked her tongue. "Naughty, I know. I'm cheating, just a little bit. It's not like you two go often without injuring yourselves."

She passed over two little pills, ducking away to grab water while Jack took time to ponder on that.

_'You two'?_

When she came back, he stood up, downing the pills and emptying the cup’s contents.

God, maybe he did need water.

"Enjoy your call, and swing back soon. I would like to take a few scans, to make sure there is nothing truly wrong."

"Thanks, Angela."

"....." Her silence almost went unnoticed, until Jack reached the door and heard her speak suddenly, "Why Angela?"

Frowning, he turned. "Excuse me?"

"I have worked with your for quite a while now, and you have never called me Angela. You couldn't get the inflection right," She recalled, her accent making it sound much less brunt than Jack had.

"I-" His mouth opened and closed once, expression falling to confusion. He didn't ever remember them interacting enough for her to notice. "I didn't remember."

"Have you been having other spots in your memory?" Jack's comm chirped again, causing him to gain an apologetic expression.

"Im sorry, I've really gotta take this."

"Ah-" Nodding, Angela didn't look very assured. "please come back the moment you are done."

"I will," he said, finally ducking out to get on a new call with part of the South African government.

So many people had been reaching out to Overwatch, interest in building bases rising after they ended the war. So far Jack had been offered bases on no less than 10 different countries’ soils, making the past few days much too busy.

He needed an assistant or something.

Watching him go, Angela clicked her tongue. Jack was acting odd, though part of her was wondering if it was all stress. Becoming Strike Commander, his split with Gabriel.

Though when she sat down to enter her new information into Jack's digital record, the blonde was startled to find that she wasn't _allowed_.

" _Vad i helvete?_ " Clicking on it again, she got the same message. "Athena, why can I not open Jack's file?"

"Because it has been deemed classified." Even the AI sounded miffed, though due to programming, it was subtle. "Orders from the UN infirmary; Jack Morrison is no longer a patient of Angela Zielger."

Athena waited calmly for the rush of swearing that followed, most of it being items that when literally translated didn't mean a lot to other language speakers. "Why would he not be?!"

"Due to his position as Strike Commander, and the stability offered by the arms of the UN in code 3d245-a, Jack Morrison will now be getting all of his medical check ups done at the Swiss Headquarters with the team they have provided."

"They have a Swiss right here, _förgrymmat också!_ "

"I am sorry Angela," The AI assured, watching the 17 year old’s frustration mount, "But as of right now, all of Jacks medical files are officially classified."

Flipping Jack's folder closed with a scowl, Angela got up, wanting to pace. "Can I send a message? Saying Jack is in need of a CAT scan, and medication for developing migraines?"

"Chances of the message being viewed in a serious capacity are low."

"How low?"

"Approximately .2%. Based off of the last 5,000 sent emails from the Overwatch; Gibraltar base, less than ten have been read and followed through with."

Angela's frustrated yell could be heard through the medical wing, getting a few soldiers to pass a little faster at the sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Bby blackwatch starting off, look at them go


	6. Gatear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((That took a tick longer, my brother just graduated from the Navy and I drove to Chicago to say hi!! So sorry about that.

The details of the mission had been simple.

Do recon work through the states of Texas, Nevada, New Mexico and Arizona at the Ominums present, all of which have been shut down and become off limits to non-authorized personnel. The mission was to dig through files and survey the area, nothing major.

"So, breaking and entering, sneaking into a government facility undetected, and possibly trading government secrets should we find any." West didn't look impressed as she read the mission statement. At her bluntness, the other people in the rec room looked up at her, glancing to Gabriel as well. Looking up at her boss too, she clicked her tongue. "I thought you were giving us a challenge."

It earned some laughter, Gabe cracking a small smile. Everyone had gotten settled in after their prints were added to the database yesterday, getting a chance to rest. Before promptly spending the morning utilizing their training rooms, Gabriel watching each recruit like a hawk in the process.

They were allowed a break after nearly three hours of drills, all of which Gabriel both participated and dominated in. While the endurance tests showed how many of them needed to work on cardio, Gabriel just wiped at his brow and watched Bjorn nearly wheeze himself to death.

From what the commander had seen, his three best stealth agents were West, Promade and Watson. He had a sharpshooter in Testla and Dawson, a medic in both Reids and Ouma, a demolitions expert in Bai. Bjorn was going to be teaching hand to hand combat with Gabe, and Watson would be the expert on teaching agents how to get in and out of a mission unseen. If they needed someone to get somewhere fast, they'd use Talga, who's dead sprint beat Gabe's own. If they needed someone to run for a while though, they'd use Fords. His endurance was the only one to match with Gabe's, though he had to guzzle enough water to nearly drown himself after they made it to the rec room.

Upon seeing that their boss had barely broken a sweat, he was promptly accused of being a robot by every agent. When he flipped them off in response, two different gym towels got thrown at him.

Despite the lack of gun skill in some of the members, they were all great at lying. At the mention that if they were caught they'd be put under torture, Dubu was the one to comment. "I can handle it long enough for you guys to come get me," He said, earning laughter again. Dubu had been in several covert missions while serving in the Indian military, only to flee the country when he was found embezzling from his higher ups. The man had seen some shit as it was, and Gabriel trusted his statement wholeheartedly.

So far, they didn't seem like a bad team. They sure as hell weren't as trained as the average soldier, but their experience was unique. None of it was something that could be taught in boot camp.

The mission roster had given them 3 days before leaving, which gave them barely enough time to scrape together enough intel to make even vague plans.

The pacing had the Blackwatch commander positive that the UN wanted him off of this project immediately, considering they were doing their best to make this an impossible task.

Akens had some skills in flying, but not anything as advanced as an Overwatch craft. Seeing as Blackwatch didn't have its own ship yet, and Akens couldn’t promise that he’d land in one piece, he wouldn't be their starting pilot. Athena would be controlling the craft during take off, with Gabriel taking over seeing as her reach didn’t extend far past Gibraltar base.

A few agents were white knuckling, unsure of having an AI flying them over the ocean even for a moment, while others napped or chatted.

Due to a lack of notice, Gabriel hadn't managed to make official uniforms yet. Instead he'd found a bulletproof vest for each agent, utility belts they could store ammo and supplies in, and-

"Are these..... Hoodies?" Talga asked, pulling up the black material with an amused grin. They were getting ready before landing, somewhere close to the outskirts of the Ominum. The trek would be on foot, using an underground spiderweb of pathways to get in. Hopefully their intel was trustworthy, seeing as Gabe was ready for an attempted sabotage at any moment from Lao.

If he fucked up the mission, that'd be on him. If her giving bad info fucked up the mission, he'd tattle to the media.

It was childish, but an active threat.

"I wasn't sure any of you would say yes, let alone all of you. I didn't have much notice to make you gear, but when we get back I will. Think of it as incentive. Survive your first mission? Custom outfits." Holding up a hand, Talga tossed the material to him. "Until now? Hoodies."

There was an Ominum that functioned in Texas through the Crisis, considering the chances of getting near it to shut it down while it was being protected by a battalion of Bastions was close to nil. Destroying the plant wasn't an option, it would turn the US into a nuclear wasteland if it was destroyed. So it had been condemned, the entire area around it tracked ten thousand ways to Sunday to make sure no one would try to reactivate it.

When they landed, a rough five miles from the Ominum, Gabriel split them into two teams.

Alpha team: Gabriel, Ouma, West, Dawson, Akens, Promade, Talga

Bravo team: Bjorn, Reids, Watson, Fords, Colomar, Testla, Bai, Dubu

The trek to the entrance Gabriel had picked, they would stick together. It was necessary to do so, and getting past the sensors would be easier en masse. For this, they couldn't rely on Athena, meaning that Gabe would have to trust one of his agents to find a way in without setting off alarms or alerting authorities. The kill switch for the sensors was placed near the breaker switches for the Ominum itself, seeing as only an authorized person could get that close without tipping someone off.

In the end, he chose Watson.

"If I get shot, donate my body to science," Watson insisted, pulling a dark hood up to hide his crop of blond hair. When the Ominum had been built, they'd made sure to create both entrances and escape routes galore. Humans still worked there, and if they had to shut down the powered machines, electronic doors would trap them inside. Meaning that all of their entryways and exits were manual, if not a little archaic. It was a vault style turning door, requiring an above average display of strength to even get it open. At least that was some form of security.

The entrance they'd found was one of the furthest points out, and according to their intel, not a commonly used one. There was a blockage halfway, meaning that no one had bothered to add sensors to a door that led to a dead end. It was marked as 'impassible', but Gabriel would be the judge of that.

The small outpost the door was located in was barely big enough to fit the deluge of agents. Everyone stood deathly still after getting in, listening to the sounds in the entryway as Watson made his way down the ladder into the underground paths.

Silence.

"Jesus Christ, it fuckin' reeks down here. The ventilation systems must be pumping in that stench from the building.." Then, after Watson spoke, there was the sound of scrambling before his black clad head peaked out from the top of the ladder, green eyes wide with a manic look of delight. "Ah mate, I think I just figured out a plan that's a beaut."

The plan?

The aforementioned gross ventilation system.

"What the hell do you think this is, Boondock Saints?" Testla asked, Dubu scoffing in response.

"That movie is ancient-"

"Dubu,” West started, “ I've known for less than a week , but I will punch you if you insult that masterpiece-"

"Oi, focus?” Watson cut in. “We're about 900 feet from sensors that'll tip off a government to a black ops mission group, and I found a way to get past them. It sounds shitty, but hear me out; These places pumped out heat like no ones fuckin' business. They have one down in Aus too, and we already have a hole in the ozone the size of the goddamn moon above us. Talk is they wanna hand it to the omnics, but according to Parliament, I don't know that." Raising his hands in a faux surrender, Watson continued, "Point is, their vents are the only reason a human can stand being in that kind'uva building. They'd roast alive if their vents weren't reinforced ten times over! Thin metal warps in heat, and if it's anything like the goliath back home, then the vents are heavy duty and everywhere.

"If they're makin' tunnels underground, they need to have a steady flow of air. The tunnel may be blocked, but there is air flow down there bringing smell from the shut down Ominum. Ergo, the vents? They're open. Enough that I could maybe sneak through them. One problem with that though." Wiggling his shoulders, he looked at the people staring him down, "Too broad in the shoulders. Unless they built these vents for big blokes to sneak through? I probably won't fit." His eyes flitted to Gabe. "If you can find the vents, we need someone to crawl for nearly five damn miles to get to the center before shutting down the sensors."

For a moment, Gabe inhaled, then exhaled. Looking around, his eyes settled on Colomar, who quickly raised a finger and opened her mouth to complain. " _Podrías manejar algo así_ ," He said, getting her tisking her tongue.

" _¿5 millas? Eres un lunático, no no no_ ," She insisted, though Gabe gave a shrug.

" _Eres pequeño. No es mi culpa_." Watching her eyes narrow, he continued. " _Además, confío en ti más que él._ "

"……….. Fuck you," She said, taking a deep breath but nodding. "You're lucky I don't have claustrophobia. Five miles will take time."

"Time, we have," He soothed, though it did little to help the unamused look he was getting. "....... I'll make your outfit first. Deal?"

"Hold on, I came up with the idea!" Watson groused.

Seeing that it got the Australian complaining, Colomar nodded, reaching to shake Gabe's offered hand. "Deal."

With functioning comms on every person, Gabriel managed to locate that the vents were down the ladder but up in the ceiling, stretching the length of the hallway straight to the Ominum. Using a knife to get it unscrewed, Tagla popped his head in only to make a small whoop. "It ain't big, but it's big enough for her," he promised, nodding at Colomar. The vent was square, two and a half foot each way and enough room for the slight woman to be able to crawl.

Were it not for the slight airflow she could feel, Colomar would have backed out from the worry of suffocating. At West's suggestion, she lost the hoodie, keeping the vest and taking off her belt and strapping it to her back so it wouldn't dig into her hips. The last thing she needed was added discomfort. Then again, once she started, she was able to get a good few feet without hitting her elbows or knees once, so that was a bonus.

It took four hours.

Four hours of Gabriel checking in every five minutes, keeping an ear out for any sounds of disturbance. Four hours of having both Testla and Dawson with night vision binoculars watching towards the Ominum, searching for any signs of movement. Four hours of having Colomar cuss Gabriel out in Spanish over the comm and insisting in English that she wanted everyone else to do this as a training exercise when they got back.

"She's got a point, we haven't had to do anything this hard," Dawson mumbled, getting swatted by Bjorn for 'giving her ideas'.

When she finally managed to get into the Ominum, Gabriel tried not to focus on the cry of pain from standing. Her legs had to be hurting, but her arms must be impossibly sore. "Directions. Now," She gritted out, and Gabriel nodded, looking back down at the blueprints in front of him.

"Ten paces forward-"

"How fucking long is a pace when you're 5'1? Use feet."

It was slow going.

Eventually, using the shape of the room as a guide, Gabriel managed to point her to the breaker room without even being able to see it.

"According to our intel, the breakers that control the sensors-"

"Chill _cabrón_ , I'm a lot better at this than speed crawling." Though Colomar sounded exhausted, the line went quiet for only about ten minutes before she clicked her tongue. "Not bad for someone who can barely lift their arms. You should be in the clear."

"Should. Comforting word."

"I've cut feeds for the sensors. As far as anyone knows, they 'work', they just can't _actually_ detect movement. It'll be the same reading they've been having since this hellhole got covered in them since anyone would have to be loco to try to get in here. Will you guys get up here? Because I need to sit down."

-

Gabe had gotten the helicarrier they were using about a mile from the Ominum. The fact that they passed the usual sensor point nearly ten minutes prior was an assurance that Colomar had disarmed them properly, but at any moment Gabriel was ready to pull up and flee should a government shuttle get close. In his mind, Colomar could hide in the vent until he could come back to get her, but the thought was already dampened with the knowledge that she would probably try to murder him and get booted from Blackwatch as a result.

He landed it next to one of the closer tunnels, this one having an entrance from what looked like a mess hall. This hallway was wider, probably so the human workers could use some sort of cart or bike to get to the cafeteria faster. They walked together, Gabriel leading and everyone dead quiet. Their steps were out of order, a far cry from the organized march their Commander was used to, but that wasn't the focus at the moment. Every five seconds Gabriel was looking for some sort of camera, even if he'd been informed that they'd never been reinstalled.

When they reached the actual center of the Ominum, Colomar was sitting next to the open panel she'd worked on, her arms dropped to her lap. Upon seeing them, she tried to give a thumbs up, though it wasn't very prominent. "You weren't kidding; This job does suck so far," She said, which earned a few chuckles. Walking over, Gabe offered an arm, trying not to feel pity when she wasn't able to really reach up and grab it. So, he reached down to scoop her to stand, only letting go when she was steady on her own feet.

"Yeah well you're top of the class right now. All of you, take notes."

"I'd be jealous but I'm not envying how your arms must feel right now," Bjorn assured, moving to stand by his teammate. "So. Split up?"

"Yeah. Beta team, I want you to survey the second floor. There shouldn't be anything major up there, seeing as it wasn't a production floor but more of offices. If you find anything, report immediately. Stay close together, no one wander off alone. Also, keep an eye out on the floor and in doorways. You never know what kind of traps people have left over time and I'm not a fan of someone getting blown up on the first mission.

"Alpha team, we're going near the production floor. Keep an eye on where you step but for a different reason; there could be live units. I wasn't informed of any, but the last thing we need is activating another wave of tin cans with big guns. Got it?"

"Sir yes sir!" They all assured in a tone that was mocking the usual military call, the sound reverberating around the room and getting Gabe pinching the bridge of his nose.

Of course Reinhardt would pick smartasses.

-

"No!" Yelling the word out, Gabriel ripped Ouma, an agent who was 15 years his senior, out of the way as a Bastion unit in the corner began to whir.

So far, they'd covered most of the production floor. A lot of it was in awful disrepair, metal falling apart and half finished units looking like frankenstein'd creations from being left unfinished. There was some growth of plant life as well, covering the floor in moss and some of the desks in it was well. A hole had gotten ripped in the ceiling from fuck knows what, revealing the moonlight and giving them more light to work by. The only thing they had to keep an eye out was for anything unusual, and so far, nothing had stuck out.

Until Gabe had caught a flicker of red in the corner as Ouma reached for a box of files on one of the overgrown desks.

When the first bullet flew, Gabriel's shoulder moved with the punch of the contact, taking the hit with a low growl in his throat. Turning, a shotgun lifted, blasting once and sending the unit into an angry series of beeps while it tried to shoot its damaged turret. Fire hailed from behind him, three of his agents already having guns drawn and peppering the machine until it shut down with a sad 'bwop'.

Ouma looked up from the ground, eyes wide and obviously a little shaken. The rundown Ominum still had active units, it appeared.

So much for useful intel.

Fucking Lao.

Having been through the crisis, Gabriel knew the boundaries, the signs, the warnings of what looked like husks of run down machines. Several already had him weary just glancing around, but that red flicker was a sight that still made sleep hard to find at night.

His shoulder was oozing bright red, which got their medic scrambling to stand. "You could have told me to move," He chided, leading Gabriel a few steps back. The agents in this sector all stood to watch as their leader simply pulled out a yellow looking canister from his belt, popping the top tab on it and basking the area in golden light. He'd only brought six along considering they were damn near impossible to get, but a bullet wound would cause a lot of problems if he let it stick around.

He'd have to send out to Angela for more.

"I can take a bullet wound better than any of you," He dismissed, before recognizing that that almost sounded patronizing. "I went through this shitshow, called the Soldier Enhancement Program." Technically an item off topic for discussions as it was top secret, but looking around, he remembered that this place technically didn't exist. This lasting Ominum, this division, everything Blackwatch did. It was all smoke and mirrors, shadows. So, fuck it. "Became a human guinea pig for a while so the US could make perfect soldiers, Captain America style. They gave us every injection you could think of, made us better for a battlefield. Not a lot of us lived, but the ones who did are gonna handle being shot a lot better than you _vato_."

"….. How many times _have_ you been shot?" Talga questioned behind one of the dust covered workbenches. "You didn't even yell."

"You get used to it," Gabe promised, the area starting to dim as his biotic canister began to run out. The wound was still oozing, but now it was closer to a moderately deep stab wound that had been healing for a few days as compared to a fresh gunshot. Lobbing it in an underhand toss, Talga caught it with one hand.

"That," Gabe started, turning to look at the agents he had gathered around, "Is a biotic emitter. Also known as a bio-canister, or biotic field. Those things will save your life. I've requested us to get a few dozen to use over various missions, but again, we don’t get shit if this mission doesn't go well. Not to mention, they are still a prototype, so if you all develop tumors in your bones, this is that warning right now. It was designed by the resident doctor from the Crisis, codenamed Mercy. Any minor wounds you have can be fixed up as long as you're standing within the gold field around it, and bad wounds-" His shoulder twinged, but he just lifted his chin a little, "They become manageable until you're on safe ground."

The sound of gunfire had Alpha teams heads snapping towards the door, Gabriel reaching for one of his shotguns on instinct. "Alpha team, come in Alpha team!" The sound of a panicked voice came through the comms in everyone's ears, "Active units on level 2, I repeat, active units!"

A loud booming noise got the main team two steps into a sprint before that voice was right back in their ears. It was Testla, the redhead, now sounding relieved. "Oh thank fuck, all clear."

"What happened?" West asked immediately. She had joined with Testla and hadn't been the happiest about being split, shouldering her gun anxiously.

"Live Bastion unit, but we're good now." A laugh, and she gave a shaky exhale, "Bai blew it up. I didn't know this place was live."

"I think splitting us up was a bad idea," Gabe admitted, frowning in thought and seeing the six people around him nod.

"Yeah it was," Bai said from the other line, though he sounded damn near exuberant, "Leaves more fun for us though."

God, this was gonna be babysitting.

Their groups remerged, Testla had a few scratches, otherwise everyone else in the group seemed fine. Though, Colomar looked pensive.

"Colomar?" She got elbowed by Bjorn, causing her to return to the moment. He made a little motion at Gabriel, which got the commander interested.

"I think we found something," She said, glancing back from where they were, "It was a little office on the second level, not near anything. There were a few terminals in there that looked… wrong. Besides being turned off and dirty, I mean. The computers looked closer to recent tech than when the Crisis started, meaning that there was some advancement in the technology between the years of the Crisis and now.

"From what I've learned in my time, Omnics have the capacity to repair. Not the capacity to create new technology, just advanced what they have. Those were _new_." A glance back at where they came from again, and she looked unconvinced that it was anything but, "They were provided new technology from an outside source."

"Someone trading information during the Crisis with omnics? Are you fucking kidding me?" Even the idea was ridiculous, but- Gabriel glanced from her to the door they'd filed in through. "…… Show me."

-

The mission was two months long.

Spending time with his new team taught Gabriel a lot. First off, down to the very soles of his shoes, he was all wrong for stealth. At least, he had been when they'd started. In his heels, the edges were subject to squeaking, something that was explained to him as they were trimmed off with a bowie knife by Watson. "No good if you make even the sound of a mouse, mate. No squeaking, no footfalls." That was when the Australian also cut away a chunk of the sole of said boot, amused by Gabe's frown as he watched his boots get chopped up.

Many of his team had never held a gun before their first mission. Promade was one of them, as well as Colomar, Ouma and Reids. Other weapons, sure, but shooting was gonna be a damn important one.

They stopped off for a week in New Mexico, taking the barren desert for what they could. It became a training ground of sorts, the sun breaking a lot of the agents level heads. It was when they were yelling and cussing, stripped down to the bare basics of clothing and sunburnt on any part exposed to the sun that they seemed to learn the best.

Maybe it was because they weren't allowed to take a break until Gabriel deemed it good enough work.

He himself had to sit out, resting his shoulder and daring to use another biotic field to speed up the healing. Colomar had to sit with him in the field, the muscles in her arms shot from overuse.

The team slept in the helicarrier, eating MRE's for nearly every meal. Gabe insisted that these tasted better than what they had when he was in Basic, and half of the group called him old while the other half insisted he was basically an infant and couldn't use the phrase 'back in my day' yet.

Learning to function together was also a bit of a challenge. A few aimed to run in head first, forgetting that they had a leader to follow now that they'd snuck into one place already as team. Others ignored order, but every time Gabriel was reminded that patience was key.

These were people that usually avoided authority, and he tried his best to combat them from feeling like he was just another official. He was a Commander, yes, and that was still important. That didn't mean he had to be an asshole about it all though. Unlike _some commanders_.

When they made it to Arizona, they got basic hand signs. Stop, move forward, left flank, right flank, ect. The next Ominum they saw was in total decay, doors destroyed and metal husks everywhere. There had been an internal explosion, and it was considered condemned, meaning no sensors but impossibly higher risk.

Jokes were still made as they traveled through the remains of the building, but Gabriels team was much more subdued than they had been on the first mission. Be that from the sunburns, exhaustion or actually listening to their leader, no one knew.

All injuries were contained to scrapes, cuts and bruises, no bullets this time.

There, Dawson stumbled across not only functioning but _active_ terminals, only for Colomar to insist that they contained new coding, having seen something similar when she was working in Russia. It was too jumbled for her not to take time on decoding, and it seemed like the power supply keeping them functioning was running low as it was.

Between the newer terminals in Texas and this, Gabriel wasn’t liking what this could imply. Still, it took a while for them to collect the surviving hard-drives from the terminals around the Ominum. Getting them out in one piece was a challenge all on its own, Bjorn snapping his fingers between some of the metal and Reids having to shush him so he didn’t complain while she bandaged them up.

Overall, they salvaged ten during the course of a solid three hours. They were good enough to bring back and have Athena decode, but for now it left them realizing they needed to find a way to gather proper intel at their last stop. Something that wasn’t stagnant info as much as actively useful information.

Gabe admitted to them that he hadn't believed they'd find anything useful, that this was a dry run before they had to do actual missions.

It seems the world was always ready to give them a few surprises.

Nevada took two weeks of recon minimum, during which they had to get pedestrian clothes. After weeks of all living on a moderately small ship, everyone was happy to actually check into a hotel, all in separate rooms under aliases.

This Ominum was still in working order and actively in use, meaning if they wanted to get intel, it was gonna require a lot more than army crawling or watching out for the decaying floor. This also meant that the entire team wasn't going to be able to go in together. This would all have to be done remotely, which felt impossible as Gabe sat stumped.

It ended up with West infiltrating in an unexpected way. The factories human employees seemed to work long shifts before having time off, from what they could tell from intel and basic patterns. One of the workers that they'd been observing from a distance ended up in a bar, and West offered to get a drink as long as it was on the house.

Gabe didn't look amused as he handed over his card.

The worker (Craig) seemed nice, if not nervous. West was taller, dark lashes and sharp smile. She touched his leg as she put her hand over his drink, a thin looking sheet of something pale falling into it and dissolving instantly as he stuttered and made eye contact the whole time.

He chugged his drink after that to help his dry mouth, smiling while West copied the look.

She also was polite enough to help him to his car when he said he needed a second to catch his breath, only to watch him pass out in the front seat. The back seat had his work uniform, janitorial by the looks of it, and his keycard in a backpack.

All of which got knicked, West patting his head and closing the door for him.

They had about five hours before he woke up for Akens to don the outfit, get in, and get out. It was a lot of plastic, going up like a hood and being paired with a gas mask seeing as he must work near toxic material. Meaning, anyone could be in the outfit, but the keycard promised it was Craig Nelson. Walking in like he belonged there, Akens followed the mental blueprint he'd studied at the entire time West had been in the bar. He'd been crammed in a car with Bjorn, Reids and Gabriel, and his only job had been to not fuck this up by memorizing the map.

Left, right, right again, straight ahead, weird U-turn and-

He scanned his card and walked straight through, passing by the same looking breaker room he'd seen two other times in the buildings sister locations. Though this time, he reached to scratch his neck, knocking his keycard off and swearing quietly under his breath.

Hand reaching up, Akens placed his palm flat against the wall terminal near the doorway to the breaker room, leaning down to grab his keycard and stand back up. There were other people around him, most milling about and cleaning after hours, and none seemed to notice the blunder. Instead, he stood back up, rehooked his name tag, and continued on his path, looping the room once and leaving again.

The bug he'd planted against the terminal was already at work, and all he needed to do was leave.

Weird little U-turn, straight, left, left, right-

The moon was low when he got back to the van Bjorn had 'borrowed' for the mission ("They won't notice if we have it back by 6:42 AM, trust me"), smile wide under the mask.

-

It was weird, coming back to base.

When they'd left, Gabriel had little to no idea what he was getting himself into. Everything, from how the mission would go to how willing his agents would be to cooperate with him had been a total guess. The second they’d landed on Gibraltar, Fords took two steps and sank to the hangar floor, wearing a large grin. “Never thought I’d be happy to see a clean facility that isn’t rotting at the core.”

The first stop was leading his agents back to B-wing, to decompress and get cleaned up. Two months without reliable showers wasn’t the best smelling adventure, and the cramped cots of the small ship didn’t do well for real rest. The hotels were decent, but the UN hadn't sprung for luxury places for them by any means.

The walk through the heart of Watchpoint: Gibraltar was the only time his agents interacted with other soldiers, and for the second time, none of the Overwatch personnel seemed thrilled to see them.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

“Gabe!” A young voice called, the commander getting the wind knocked out of him as Fareeha slammed into him, wrapping her arms around him. “I know you smell bad and wanna lie down but this place is so boring without you. I’m falling behind on learning Spanish, and Jack doesn’t help me with my history homework anymore, and oh my god, Reinhardt keeps trying to get me to listen to some old guy singing-”

While she chattered on, Gabe just dropped a hand to her hair and mussed it up a little, watching Ana and Reinhardt turn the corner Fareeha had come barreling around. Ana looked more tired, with more creases in the corners of her eyes. And Reinhardt…..

“I’m sorry to interrupt you kiddo, but what the _hell_ is that?” Gabe asked, pointing at Reinhardt’s face and earning a booming laugh in response.

“I thought I’d grow it out! The facial hair is bold, don’t you think?” Running thick fingers along the short but very real beard and mustache Reinhardt was growing, the older man looked proud.

“Bold is a word,” Gabe admitted, listening to Ana chuckle while Fareeha asked why he’d been gone so long without calling.

It was the first time he’d registered just how much he'd missed home.

Yet a glance back at the grubby agents heading through the B-wing entrance behind him told him he had a new responsibility in all of this. Fareeha peeked around side to look at them, watching Testla flip off one of the soldiers while looking straight ahead and popping her gum.

“Woooooow, who’s she?” She asked, but Gabriel just shook his head.

“Someone who you can’t talk to, trust me.”

"So," Ana asked, watching them pass and shut the heavy doors leading to their wing, "Any casualties? Accidental or otherwise?" From behind her, Reinhardt was beckoning for Fareeha to follow him, to give Ana and Gabe time to catch up. He could hear her asking if she could see Gabriel later as she left his side, to which the gentle giant promised.

For being only twelve, she had them all on a hell of a hook.

"No, no casualties. A few injuries, torn muscles, bullet wounds. Nothing we couldn't handle," He assured, watching her inhale deeply.

"So that means you are in a good mood?" She ventured, which got Gabe narrowing his eyes. He had a few more scars on his face now, though small, and he really did need that shower. Yet still, he could hold off for a moment to question his friend.

"Why do you need me in a good mood?"

"Well. While you were gone, I was unable to contact you," Ana started, and already Gabriel wasn't feeling the greatest with that start, "And I……. Was promoted."

"Promoted?" He repeated, though his expression softened, "That's good news, why would I need to be happy to hear that?"

"I was promoted to Second-in-Command, Gabriel," She clarified, which got his smile falling a little bit. Right. "I tried to call but I was told-"

"No no no, Ana-" His jaw clenched for a moment, but he just exhaled through his nose, looking away for a moment. "I'm happy for you. I am." He was not. But that was pettiness speaking, and Ana was one of the few people he really trusted. She deserved to be serving so close to the top, really.

Then again, this did plant a little seed of doubt in his heart.

After what had happened with Jack, she'd been there for him. Then again, she'd just spent two months listening to Jack probably talk shit about him, probably justifying his actions.

Probably, probably, probably.

She liked him enough to accept a promotion, that much was certain.

"It is something I have wanted for many years, to be this kind of a rank in this important of an organization."

"I know," Gabe said, finally looking back at her and reaching out to pull her into a hug, "I get it. I'm proud of you." That much was true at least.

"I'll have you know, if I had been allowed to ask you-" She started, but he chuckled, even if it sounded a little forced.

"I had no service, and everything I do now is under wraps. You know that."

" _'Ana asaf, shaqiq._ "

"No apologizing." Pulling away, he nodded at her once, not holding her gaze well, "I've got to shower and go through debriefing, we can talk later. Make sure you get rest, yeah?"

Before she had a chance to speak, Ana watched him step back and way, heading down the hall with a sinking feeling in her stomach. When she'd been offered the position, it had been phrased less as a question and more of a congratulations. She'd tried, really, to reach out and ask Gabriel his feelings on it. But beyond not being able to reach him, she was barely given a choice.

Two months, and she found that Jack was a good leader, if not overburdened. He did the job well, though it pained her to admit. If you’d asked her a year ago who should be the Strike Commander of Overwatch, she would have listed Gabriel Reyes as number one with a bullet. Now though, seeing how many Watchpoints were being built, how happy investors and governments felt with the organization….. She was no longer sure.

Jack seemed to have a way with people, to get them to believe in the protection agency. They were getting funding that was like water after a financial drought, they had proper supplies all over again. Though he was too busy for them to talk much, Ana could see the stress weighing on him every time he so much as walked by.

It had started small, her offering to look over some of the proposals he’d been sent about outreach programs. Something to see her friend look less high strung.

Eventually, after nearly three weeks of that, Ana was handed the responsibility of task force placement around their existing Watchpoints.

It had been a week before Gabriel was due to return when Jack insisted she was one of the few people he'd trust with Second-in-Command. He’d also pointed out that she was basically already taking on all the responsibility of the position as it was.

It was like she hadn’t had a chance to think it over before she was being shown her new office. New living quarters would come to match, she was assured, after this particular Watchpoint thinned out its soldier populace to the other bases.

As she’d stood in the room she hadn’t accepted nor declined, Ana got a tight feeling in her throat at the thought that this may have been exactly how Jack felt about the Strike Commander position.

She and Gabriel would have a chance to discuss it later, she tried to assure herself, finally looking away from his receding figure and going to find where Reinhardt and Fareeha had gotten off to.

They would have time.

-

The next stop Gabriel took was to one of the research labs, hauling the hard drives they’d isolated along after retrieving them from the ship. So far, Colomar’s bug from the facility in Nevada had been bleeding information straight to Athena, who informed them that there were traces of the old God programs being fed into it, bit by bit.

Over the course of their mission, the coding had gone under revisions twice as far as they could tell.

Who was doing it was still unknown, but Athena insisted that this was a dangerous find. Gabriel could agree; if someone was piecing together God Programs within the very foundations of the Ominums, then chances were that it had been what had been done to cause the first Crisis.

That also meant that it was very likely it could happen again.

Though their own AI assured him that the code was only 4% similar to the God Program, Gabriel didn’t want to risk it. Each hard drive was plugged in, leaving Gabriel to insist on Athena keeping him updated if she figured out where the source changes were coming from. “Bringing an AI into being is not an easy task, Commander, do not be mistaken,” She said while Gabriel finished plugging in the last hard drive. “Should this manifest past mere programming into a functioning intelligence, I will be notifying several people, yourself included. As of right now, you have found viable information. Leave it to me to discover a source.”

“Can you send any information you find to the computer in my office?”

“Already done, Commander Reyes.”

Debriefing was going to be long, with a lot of information to unpack. Not to mention he’d promised outfits, which was going to be time consuming. Hopefully they’d get actual time before their next mission. While he did like his team, he needed them to function like soldiers _and_ lunatics. A careful balance, if you would.

Technically, this hadn’t been a failed mission. Nothing had gone wrong, they hadn’t been caught. They’d even returned the Craig’s stolen outfit, leaving most of the world none the wiser as to what the’d been doing for a few months.

It was a toe in the water of what was to come, but Gabriel could say that they had made it through a successful first mission without needing to defend the statement. If he was remembering correctly, he’d have to go back to the Swiss base for his proper debriefing, but beforehand give a ‘red tape’ statement to Morrison. Something to explain the absence while making it sound legal, if he could manage that.

The thought made his heart speed up.

When Gabriel made it back into his wing with a scowl on his face, he got halfway down the hall before being met with an odd sight when he turned to the kitchen to make coffee.

Colomar had her hair pulled up into a messy bun and was tying on an apron, still covered in dust from what the helicarrier kicked up upon leaving Nevada. Pomade was looking similarly dressed, with a plan black apron to combat Colomar's colorful one, while Watson was frowning and sitting on the counter of their small kitchen area. “Boss man, think we can steal some plates or somethin' from the forbidden side of base? Colomar wants to make some uh- What is it again?"

"Pozole, but Promade says that this stupid Italian dish is going to beat my mother’s recipe." She wagged a finger at this, the younger of the two looking amused. Turning to Gabe, she motioned at Promade. "Talk some sense into them."

"Non, cacciatore cooked properly is better than any stew," Promade promised, “Reids agreed with me.” As if on cue, Reids trailed in, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Promade is right, nothing is better than true italian cuisine," She said, uncapping the water and leaning a hip on the counter, taking a drink. That got the Colomar and Promade arguing all over again, though neither seemed to have much bite in their voices as they began to dig around for ingredients. The kitchen wasn’t well stocked, but Watson was already lazily writing down what they didn’t have so he could try to steal it from the kitchen in D-wing.

These were people that had just spent two months doing recon work, and instead of sleeping, resting, showering or changing their damn clothes, they were cooking. Out of spite.  
And stealing already, goddamn it.

The tenseness in Gabriels chest lessened, his head shaking as he started a pot of coffee.

He still had to shower, but food didn’t sound half bad.

Debriefing could wait. Just for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Translation of Spanish used (If it is inccorect, please tell me so I can fix it!! ^^))
> 
> "You could handle something like that."
> 
> "5 miles? You're a lunatic, no no no."
> 
> "You're small, it's not my fault, and I trust you more than him."


End file.
